The Bonfire of the Vanities
by julian bb
Summary: Clayton Evans is just a little damaged. It's no big deal, Brooke figures, since she's pretty damaged, too. They can be damaged together... And then along comes back Lucas Scott. BL/BC/JR
1. Damaged

**AN:** Yeah, I'm alive. I know a few people are expecting an update for the ROA, but real life and lack of inspiration have been a bitch–it'll come, though. **I **_**am **_**working on it**. This just popped up into my head and wrote itself. I guess it's an alternate season 7…kind of. It includes a fun-party Brooke, a non-pussy whipped Clay, a never-married-Dan Rachel, and some Brucas coming soon… I'm actually not sure if this will be a Lucas/Brooke or Clay/Brooke. You guys weigh in on that.

Please tell me whatcha think, dudes.

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**Damaged**

Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

—Josephine Hart

**-xx-**

It's a fifteen past twelve and Brooke Davis is still safely asleep in her huge platform bed.

Outside her house, worn out Chucks slide a large potted plant aside to reveal a spare key. The light-haired brunette unlocks the front door and lets himself inside easily, as if this is completely the norm, and he does it all the time.

"Brookie D.!" He calls out, kicking off his sneakers as he shrugs off his coat, "Wake up! Your favorite Boy Toy has arrived."

The brunette turns around in her bed, burrows her head under a fluffy pillow to drown out the unwanted noise. "Fuck off…" She mutters half-heartedly.

The bedroom door flies open to reveal Clayton Evans leaning cockily against the doorframe, hands tucked neatly into his pants' pockets.

He wolf-whistles at the sight: A deep crimson duvet covers the brunette goddess' voluptuous body looking like fire against her perfect porcelain skin.

"Shit," he exclaims, "_Please_ tell me you're naked under there."

This doesn't amuse the fashionista as much as he thought it would. She kicks off the cover to reveal a pair of short-shorts and a ratty top. "No such luck, lover," she turns around to face him, still refusing to get up, "What're you doing here?"

"Had a couple of early meetings today — Nate says hi, by the way, and Hales sends her never-ending concern." He relays the messages, scooting her over and lying down next to her.

At this, Brooke opens one eye, says, "Gee, I'm touched," before resuming her attempts at recapturing her sleep.

Since her break-up with movie producer extraordinaire Julian Baker, Haley had been hounding her nonstop.

Made annoying comments such as: "He was a good one, Brooke." and "He could have been _THE_ one."

However, the facts didn't change. They'd dated. They'd parted amicably. They still cared for each other.

But more than that: He'd loved her too much. She hadn't loved him enough. It would've never worked out. Brooke is certain of this.

Still, Haley particularly disapproves of the brunette's newfound friendship with Clay. She issues her multiple warnings:

He's a player.

He's just a charming, self-important man-child.

He likes to change _women _out of simple boredom.

He's not a healthy way to move on from a failed relationship.

But Brooke fails to see it that way: Clayton Evans is just a little damaged.

It's no big deal, she figures, since she's pretty damaged, too.

They can be damaged together.

Besides, there's something about him that intrigues her–and he has intrigued her from the second they met. Like the most interesting of friendships, theirs starts on a dare...

**-xx-**

_It's about a week after she's broken up with Julian, and she's back to doing what she does best: working and drinking. Not necessarily in that order. _

_Brooke sits alone at the bar at TRIC. She's drunk enough that Chase's god-awful drinks are actually _drinkable _when this guy sits on they stool next to hers. _

"_You look familiar," he says, a coy grin playing on his lips._

"_Probably seen me in the cover of a magazine. I seem to be fucking everywhere lately." _

_The media's been publicizing the shit out of the Brulian Break-up and it's really beginning to be a pain in her pilates-perfect ass. _

_The guy shakes his head, "Nope. More like Nathan and Haley's wedding picture." He says, extends a hand out to her, "I'm Clayton Evans—Clay. I'm Nate's agent."_

_Brooke shakes his hand, "Nice to meet you, Clayton '_Clay_' Evans. I'm Brooke Davis. I'm Nate's friend." She says, "Wanna a drink? It's on me."_

"_Sure. I make it a rule never to turn down a beautiful woman who offers me booze," Clay replies, and she immediately knows that smirky-smile must've bedded plenty of other women before. "What's good here?"_

_Brooke chugs down what's left of her drink, and she manages to do so gracefully. "Nothing," she answers, "Bartender's shit. Whatever you order, take it straight."_

_As if beckoned, Chase Adams pops up, flipping a bar rag over his shoulder, "What can I get ya?"_

"_Two shots of Patrón." Tequila's always been his drink._

_Brooke pouts those luscious red lips in thought, "Sounds good," she concludes, "Make that four, Ace. Put 'em on my tab."_

_It's a drink simple enough even for Chase and he quickly pulls out the four shot glasses, fills them to the brim. _

_"Patrón. Four shots." Chase announces, placing four lemon slices and a saltshaker in front of them along with the tequila. "Cheers."_

_Clay's cobalt blue eyes widen in surprise (and _lust_) as he watches the tiny brunette expertly lick the salt off her hand, down the two shots in a row, and then suck the shit out of the lemon slice without so much as a wince. _

_This chick's a pro, he concludes. _

_Clay forces himself to swallow the drool. He eyes her carefully, "Shoots it straight," he comments, clearly impressed, "My kinda woman." He downs his own shots, smirks at her daringly, "Another round?"_

"_Trying to get me drunk?" Brooke raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow questioningly._

_Clay licks his lips, "You've already done that without me, baby." He says, "I'm just trying to catch up."_

_It's written in his face, it's in the way his eyes keep darting towards her cleavage when he thinks she isn't looking, and the not-so-subtle way he continues to ply her with alcohol. Everything inside Brooke screams it at her: _This boy is trouble_, the little voice in her head warns. _

_She knows she should walk away, but she merely tilts her head amused. "I'm not about to make it easy for you, sunshine. Four more, Ace!" she calls out._

"_Make that six, bro." Clay amends, never looking away from her enticing hazel eyes. This chick may be goddess-like gorgeous and drink like the best of them, but he can fucking _match her_. Of this he is sure. "I catch up quick." He adds with a shrug._

**-xx-**

_A week after what becomes known as the infamous TRIC Drinking Binge, Clay walks into the C-o-B store looking sinfully gorgeous in his Diesel jeans and Armani button down. "Hey, Sugarpop," he greets, "Been a while."_

_The brunette tears her eyes away from her sketchpad, a smile tugging at her lips, "And what brings you around my corner of the Hill?"_

"_Nothing much, just missing that perfect body of yours," Clay answers casually, "And it just so happens I have a business meeting in the Big Apple today. Thought you might wanna make a quickie getaway. It'll be fu-u-un." He tempts. Knows full well he should be keeping his distance._

"This girl, she's family, Clay."_ Nathan had warned him a few days ago upon hearing of their night at TRIC. _"I know you like to screw anything with a pulse, but back off. I mean it."

_ Brooke Davis is officially off limits to Clay Evans. _

_That's what makes her even more fucking irresistible._

"_Can't. Work." She raises her sketchpad as evidence of this fact. _

_Like a petulant child who will not be denied, Clay slides the pad out of her hands, "Cab's outside. Flight leaves in an hour. And your ticket's paid for. It's only a day. Hasn't there ever been a time when you've done what you've wanted rather than what's good for ya?" he asks almost tauntingly._

"_As a matter of fact, that kind of thing used to be my specialty." Brooke replies with an almost nostalgic look, then she shakes her head, snapping out of it. "But I've grown out of the self-indulgent phase of my life. Downside of growing up and all that."_

"_C'm_on_," he leans in, his warm breath tickling her skin as he whispers in her ear, "Take a risk, baby. It's good for you." His tone's husky and seductive—not to mention that he's gorgeous, tempting and pretty damn close to irresistible. _

"_All right, Agent Boy," she agrees, grabs her purse from behind the counter, "Take me away."_

_Clay grins that smirky-grin, "Trust me, baby, it'll be your pleasure."_

_The day's spent bumming around the city. He takes her to meet up with one of his clients and she takes him to _Clothes-Over-Bros _Company Headquarters —where they avoid her mother like the plague, and end up running out one of the Emergency Exits. _

_They're strolling arm in arm down Central Park, passing around what's left of a bottle of Jack they bought from some dude on a corner, when they spot this guy. _

_Brooke's meticulous designer eye immediately identifies what he's wearing—large Wayfarers, which give him an air of mystery, and a grey Fioravanti suit, no tie. She also notes that he's fucking _hot_. Between that walk and that grin, women must've automatically spread their legs for him._

_But most surprisingly, Clay seems to know the guy._

"_Baze!" Clay greets as they do the half-hug-shoulder-bumping thing guys seem to think is always an appropriate greeting. "Been a long fucking time, bro." _

_The guy—_Baze_, if that's his real name—nods, grinning from ear to ear. "It certainly has," he agrees, "Do _not_ call me Baze, Evans, or I'll be forced to reveal _your_ nickname."_

"_Well, fuck you very much," replies Clay, turns to face Brooke: "This," he tells her, "Is Carter Baizen. He was my roommate down at Dartmouth for less than a semester before dropping off the radar once more to burn through his father's bank account. Baze, this is—"_

_But Carter cuts him off, reaches for the brunette's hand, "Brooke Davis," he says, pressing a kiss to her hand. "A woman who needs no introduction."_

_Clay raises an eyebrow in interest—_what_ the fuck is it about this chick? He can't put his finger on it yet, but he's beyond impressed, and turned on doesn't even begin to touch what's coursing through his body at the moment. "Fuckin' hell, Sugarpop," he exclaims, a half-grin on his lips, "You're famous."_

__Brooke and Carter chuckle at his surprise. _What did he expect? This is New York. For four years, this was her city. It still is._

_"Come on, Beautiful," Carter says, "My girl's got a party tonight at the Empire—and I can show you a much better time than Clayton ever could. Shall we?" he asks, offering her his arm. _

_The brunette ponders it for a second—the guy's taken, quite clearly just wants to fuck with Clay's head. Yep. She can do that. _

_"We shall." Brooke answers, linking her arm through Carter's as they walk towards the exit. _

_Clay lets out a scoff of dismay—_Holy Cockblock, Batman_!—when Carter calls out: "C'mon, dickweed! You're invited, too."_

_The brunette's cobalt blue eyes narrow: "A'ight, that's how it is. Little fucker's gonna pay for that one." He mutters as he trots to catch up to them. He stands on the other side of Brooke, effectively pinning the petite brunette in between them, and slings one of his toned arms around her shoulders. It's his way of marking his territory. _

_Brooke can read the gesture's significance in his face: "This one's mine. And I don't want you to even _think_ about playing with my girl." _

_She thinks about telling him that no one plays with her without her explicit consent, but thinks better of it. It's been a while since a guy's wanted her this way, and it does have its perks._

_All eyes immediately land on her when she walks into the Empire with two of the city's most eligible bachelors hanging from her arms._

_They meet Carter's fabulous girlfriend, mingle, drink and dance. Party goes on till about three then they decide to get a suite. The owner of the penthouse is out of town on business, and he's Carter's girl's stepbrother so they have the whole place to themselves: pool table, poker table, plasma and the most extensive collection of scotch known to man._

_Welcome to a night of expensive decadence, frivolous spending, and copious consumption of legal (and some illegal) substances. _

_Next day, it's Haley who picks them up at Tree Hill Airport. She takes one look at them, immediately notices the obvious things: they're both wearing yesterday's clothes, albeit much more disheveled than they'd been before. Brooke's not wearing a bra. Clay's shirt is missing all but one of its buttons. And then there's the unmistakable stench of alcohol, which seems to be emanating out of their every pore. _

_Haley watches her brunette best friend kick off her heels and perch her feet on the dashboard of the Range Rover. Never taking her eyes off the road, she extends her right hand to pull the large tortoiseshell Ferragamos off the brunette's face. _

"_HEY!" whines Brooke, winces away from the light, "The _fuck_, Hales?" _

"_Dammit, Brooke!" Haley reprimands after taking one look at the brunette's bloodshot eyes, "What the hell are you doing? Where _exactly_ did you two disappear to yesterday?" _

_In the backseat, Clay merely throws his head back and chuckles at the scene playing out in front of him. _

_"And _you_," Haley glares at him through the rearview mirror, "You can shut up, Clayton! I know you like to screw around carelessly, but there's no need to drag Brooke down with you."_

_This goes on for what feels like forever to the hungover duo. It's in fact the longest car ride ever, especially with all that pounding hitting Brooke's temples in time with Haley's screams of protest and disapproval. _

_The copper-haired mother drops them off at Clothes-Over-Bros. Truthfully, she didn't want to leave them there together, especially in their current states, but they're adults—or at least they're supposed to be. _

_And anyway, she's never had any control over what either Brooke or Clay do—they're both the very definition of '_untamable_'._

_The pair stands at the sidewalk, wave Mother Scott goodbye, then burst out laughing as soon as she's out of sight. _

_The motherly concern is fucking hilarious and they're still a little buzzed._

_Brooke leans her head on his broad shoulder, "Thanks for the trip, sunshine." The '_I needed to get away_' went unsaid, but most definitely not unheard._

"_Brooke Davis," Clay eyes her seriously, "I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship."_

_Casablanca is one of her favorite movies, so she appreciates the reference. _

_"Clayton Evans," Brooke replies, her tone equally serious, "I wholeheartedly concur."_

**-xx-**

To this day, Brooke still isn't quite sure why she hasn't just _told_ Haley that she's never fucked Clay.

Probably because Haley wouldn't approve either way, and the less she knows the better.

Clay wolf-whistles, snaps his fingers, "Earth to B. Davis," he says, "I asked if you got your cell charger in here?" he asks, busting her out of her thoughts, his hand already roaming her bottom bedside drawer. "My battery is nearly dead."

Her bottom bedside drawer is the one full of the Ghosts of Boyfriends (And Girl Friends) Past—the one that has the remains of her on-and-off thing with Lucas, the sketches of her sometimes reckless youth with Peyton, photos and movie stubs from her short-lived relationship with Julian, amongst other less meaningful relationships.

Clay pulls out one of the photographs in the top pile and turns it over. The back reads: _Peyton, Luke & Sawyer B. Canberra, Australia_. "Do you not find it even slightly creepy that this kid looks so much like you?" he asks.

Brooke sits up, stares at the picture in Clay's hand for a few seconds. That fact is most certainly not lost on her.

Contrary to everyone's expectations, Sawyer Brooke Scott's hair never lightened into strawberry blonde curls, but rather darkened into a light chestnut and remained only slightly wavy.

That, and her fair complexion make the kid look like mini version of Brooke.

"I have not seen that kid since about a week after she was born, when her parents jetted off to the other side of the world and left Tree Hill behind." Brooke answers, placing the picture back in the drawer and closing it, "My charger's in the kitchen."

Clay raises an eyebrow skeptically, "Excellent dodge, B."

In just a few short months, Clay has become an expert on all things B. Davis: the fucking-gorgeous-extremely-hypnotizing dimples that show up when she smiles, the way she kinks her eyebrows, the freckles on the small of her back, the way she avoids talking of the pair of brooding blondes or any of her ex-boyfriends for that matter.

"Fuck off, _C_." Brooke counters easily. She stands up the bed, ready to jump off the wooden platform and head for the bathroom, away from _that_ conversation.

But Clay's bigger and faster, so he snakes a hand behind her knees to trip her. Her taut body lands atop of his softly and he has to smirk at that. "Easy, Gorgeous—have I called you 'Gorgeous' before? If not, it was purely an oversight." He says, his cobalt eyes burrowing into her hazel ones, "Don't run outta bed yet. I hate to be left alone."

Brooke rolls her eyes at the pick-up line—if she were any other girl, she'd have fallen for that hook, line, and sinker. But she's Brooke-fucking-Davis. Instead, she leans down to give him a kiss on the lips—a reward for the solid effort.

Clay wastes no time, brings up a hand to cup the back of her head, his fingers getting tangled in silky-smooth cascading locks of chocolate-colored hair.

Her lips are soft and warm against his own.

His other hand quickly slides down to her ass.

She giggles against his mouth, kisses him again, presses their lips together harder.

This is as far as she ever lets him get: a kiss, a feel, a few seconds.

"Points for efforts," Brooke declares, sliding off of him and trotting off towards the bathroom.

Clay stays dazed for a couple of seconds—the things Brooke Davis did with those lips were unparalleled—before following her into the bathroom.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching her agile fingers combing through her hair. "Y'know, I feel used." He pouts endearingly, "I wish you would use me more."

Brooke smiles that smile that must've broken a thousand hearts. "But then who would I hang out and bitch about boys with?"

"There's always Rachel."

The brunette shakes her head, "She's not as fun now that she doesn't party." She says, "You're my friend, sunshine—_without_ the benefits."

Clay groans as if he's in profound pain, but then grins: "I guess I can live with that." He hums, "I do have a question, though, blonde chick in the picture, is _that_ Peyton Scott?"

Brooke succinctly nods, "Née Sawyer." She says, a slight trace of bitterness behind her tone, "Why the sudden interest?"

"Not interest," amends Clay, "Mild curiosity. Rach has told me plenty of stories about Peyton Scott–_née Sawyer_," he immediately adds, "Just wanted to put a face to the name, that's all. There are no pictures of her around the Naley house."

"One of the great mysteries of life, I'm sure." Brooke says feigning interest.

The truth is, since they'd left, it was easier to put the couple out of sight, out of mind.

Clay rolls his eyes, "Lovely attitude, as always, darling," he says offhand, "Get dressed. I want food—_not_ your shitty attempts at cooking. Something _edible_. Let's go to Mel's."

**-xx-**

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, the seams of the Scott/Sawyer marriage finally start to unravel.

It all starts with a drunken revelation:

"Senior Year of high school, I told Brooke that I loved you. That I was still _in love_ with you."

That is the one tiny pebble that created a huge motherfucking ripple.

The Scott/Sawyer Family is spending their last night in Madrid, Spain. After travelling all throughout Europe with Karen, Andy and Lily, they have finally decided it was time to go home.

To them, home means Tree Hill, North Carolina.

And so, on their final eve in Spain, the couple decides to crack open a bottle of La Rioja's finest wine.

The intoxicating grape juice flowing freely throughout the curly blonde's veins and an overwhelming feeling to discuss the good ol' days bring about the topic of old relationships.

That's how the Cheery Brunette with the world's most perfect smile comes into the conversation.

And that's how one life-changing revelation finally sees the light of day: "Senior Year of high school, I told Brooke that I loved you. That I was still _in love_ with you."

"_What_?" The brooder is perplexed, to say the least.

Peyton sighs, twirls a curl between her dainty fingers, "God, I think it was the night of Nathan and Haley's rehearsal dinner…" she lets her voice trail off, allowing the memory to come back to her, "I wanted to be honest, so I told her. It seems like a lifetime ago now."

Lucas isn't exactly sure _why_ this fact bothers him so much. Nevertheless, he felt that The Why is neither here nor there—what does matter is that he's fucking _pissed off_ about it.

And he lets her know it.

"HOW IN THE HELL COULD YOU HAVE KEPT THAT FROM ME!" he bellows, at the top of his lungs. Thank God Sawyer sleeps like log.

Peyton crinkles her nose in confusion, "_Shh_! Keep it down!" she urges, "Sawyer's sleeping. Why are you getting so agitated about this?"

_This_ was nothing. Just something that tumbled out of her mouth while they discussed high school under the haze of the wine.

"W-why?" he lets out an angry chuckle, "_WHY_? Because you've lied to me for seven fucking years, that's why!"

Lately, their relationship has been strained at best. They haven't had sex in months, and he can barely tolerate talking to her because all the emotional baggage and whining have _finally_ gotten old. This is just the drop that tips over the glass.

He yells.

She cries.

He demands an explanation.

She only offers him substandard excuses.

It's the longest flight in history.

Welcome back to fuckin' Tree Hill.

**-xx-**

Rachel Gatina arrives at the fashionista's house bright and early. There's a blonde-haired baby boy in her arms, a diaper bag on one shoulder and her purse on the other, which makes retrieving the key under the pot a little harder, but not impossible.

Once inside, Rachel throws her bags on the living room table, and settles down on the couch with her baby boy. "Whore!" she yells, "Get your ass out here! Where the fuck are you?"

The baby in her arms coos at her, and she's not sure if it's in reprimand for her bad language or amusement.

Rachel loves her son, but since he's started learning to talk he's been like a parrot repeating everything he hears. "Ooh! _Please_ don't repeat that, sweetie," the redhead pleads with her 14-month-old son. "_You_ shouldn't talk like Mommy, okay?"

The boy blinks at her with his dark brown eyes and utters a single word: "Fuck."

Most mothers would be horrified, but Rachel grinns at her son somewhat proudly. "A'ight, baby," she says, "Might as well learn it at home."

Brooke trots down the stairs, "I'm here, bitch, quit complaining." She says, plopping herself down onto an armchair. "My baby boy!" she claps in excitement, taking the fair-haired baby in her arms, "Hey, Jax, did you miss me?"

"I hate it when ya'll call him Jax."

"Tough shit." Answers Brooke, "He likes it—he knows that's his name."

"I still fuckin' hate it." Replies Rachel curtly.

Brooke rolls her eyes, "To which I repeat: tough shit."

As Rachel watches her best friend play with her son—her _son_, over a year and it still feels surreal to say the word—she realizes just how far she's come.

**-xx-**

_A year ago, just after Lucas and Peyton jetted off, Rachel had come blazing back through Tree Hill like a tornado. _

_She's one year sober and seven months pregnant when she shows up at Brooke's front door. All her belongings fit inside a large duffel bag that hangs from her shoulder and she has an envelope full of cash to pay Brooke back all the money she'd taken before. _

_Because Brooke is Brooke, she forgives the redhead for before—she knew that had mostly been Victoria's doing, anyways—and she puts the cash in a college fund for the kid. It takes less than 24 hours for the redhead to settle into the guest bedroom and just like that, they're roommates again. _

_Two months later, Jackson Thomas Gatina is born. _

_Rachel is officially a mom. _

_Brooke is a godmother—_again_._

_And they are both grown-ups. This time for real._

_Then along comes Clay. He takes an instant liking to the redhead and brings the kid freebies from all the sport teams his clients play for. He also wastes no time in naming Rachel Gatina the Hottest MILF in History._

_Neither Brooke nor Rachel had ever had much in the family department, but their Two Girls, a Man & a Baby arrangement blossoms into its own particular family dynamic, and they're all grateful for it. _

**-xx-**

It's then that Clay waltzes down the stairs, boxer-clad and groggy, his hair sticking out in all directions. "The fuck's goin' on?" he asks no one in particular rubbing the back of his head. "How'd I get here, and I how come I can't find my pants?"

Rachel and Brooke exchange looks before busting out laughing.

"I haven't a clue, but you look better without pants, anyways." Answers the redhead, and even Jackson lets out a chuckle.

Clay stretches his toned arms over his head as he lets out a yawn. "How's my man, Jax?" he picks the baby out of the brunette's lap and bounces him in air. "Y'know, you're pretty handsome, kid. Must've gotten it from your old man, but your Ma won't spill who it is. She's holding out on us, and that shit ain't cool, little man."

Any time someone mentions the subject of Jackson's dad, Rachel clams up. She also gets really pissed. "Fuck off, Clayton," she hisses almost venomously, "Hand me my kid." She cradles her son against her chest, storms out of the living room, heads upstairs. "Fuckin' prick."

Brooke slams a cushion against his head, "Why'd you go and do that for?" She asks, her voice raspy.

"Hey, I was just askin'," Clay shrugs a shoulder casually—they've had the argument countless times. "She's gotta drop that bomb at some point, and–"

Haley's voice resonates throughout the house, effectively cutting Clay off. "I am walking into the den of iniquity," she calls out, "I have Jamie with me, everybody damn well better be clothed and presentable."

Jamie runs into the living room ahead of her, jumps into Brooke's lap. His seventh birthday's tomorrow, and the party's all planned out. Brooke and Rachel got him a killer gift, and Clay's been working out the details of some big surprise. Jamie then scampers off upstairs to see Rachel and Jax.

Brooke laughs, it's still a wonder why it is that Jamie likes Rachel so much. "What brings you around my humble abode, Tutor Mom?"

"We need to talk." Haley announces.

Clay smirks, "Ominous, much?"

Haley flashes him the maternal-disappointment glare she saves especially for him, "Shouldn't you be down at the studio right about now? Nathan's shooting that add today, remember?"

Clay jumps up so fast he gets a bitch of a head rush—he rubs a hand against his temples, swears to give up scotch. He starts grabbing his shit off the floor. He yanks his button down off the ceiling fan, finds one shoe, then the other one. Looks around frantically for his jeans. "Seriously, B, we can play Hide My Pants later—where the fuck are they?"

Brooke chuckles, "Drier." She wasn't hiding them. The knucklehead had puked on them last night so she had to throw them in the wash.

In seconds, Clay runs out of the front door sliding on his jeans and buttoning up his shirt as he goes.

"Hide My Pants," repeats Haley with a mortified frown, "Is that some sort of kinky sex game you two play?"

Brooke rolls her eyes, "He puked last night. Get your mind out of the gutter. What's the real reason for this visit, Hales? I know it's not just to pass judgment on what we do on our spare time."

"As a matter of fact, it's not just for that, but what fun would it be if I didn't?" replies Haley. Both friends stare at each other for a second before bursting out laughing. The copper-haired mother wraps an arm around her brunette friend and hugs her tight, "Are you three behaving at least, if only for the sake of Jax?"

Brooke sighs, "Hales," she says, her tone turning serious, "I know you haven't exactly approved of these last few months. And I know you were disappointed when Julian and I broke up, but I'm good—we're _all_ good. Rae and Jax are settled into the new apartment, he's an awesome little boy. Rach's doing good, too—no drugs, no drinking, no nothing. As for Clay and me…I know you think he's a bad influence, but he's good. He watches out for Rach and for me. He's a male influence for Jax. Trust me, we make do just fine."

While all her regular concerns are still there, the sincerity of Brooke's assurances quells them, if only for a while. She lets out a small sigh of relief, "I trust you, Tigger." She uses the nickname she hasn't used for her in years, "Um, I'm also here because I just got some news. Lucas called."

Brooke feels like her heart stops for a beat. It's been a year and two months since Luke and Peyton fled Tree Hill, and she's put a lot of time and effort into pushing both blondes to the back of her mind. But even then, it isn't so much that he'd called that surprises her. It's the way Haley has announced it, in a tone that means nothing good.

"He, Peyton and Sawyer are flying down for Jamie's birthday. They'll be here tomorrow." Haley continues, "Um, apparently they're having some marital issues right now. It sounded serious. Peyton was having a bitch of a fit."

Brooke licks her lips, "They're coming back?"

"Yeah," Haley nods, "I just thought you should know. In case Peyton pops up around here or something," Haley clears her throat, "Um, I should go. Final touches on the birthday party. I'll go grab Jamie."

Brooke nods, "Okay, Hales," she says, "Um…I hope things work out."

"Yeah, I do, too. I'll see you tomorrow, Tigg," Haley stands up, gathers her purse, "James!" she calls out, "Get your butt down here, we're leaving!"

Jamie scampers down the stairs, kisses Brooke goodbye and off they go.

Rachel comes down the stairs a few minutes later. "Jax asleep?" asks Brooke, noticing the boy's not in her arms. The redhead nods in response, seats on the couch next to her. She pauses for a second then adds: "Heard Pucas and the spawn are coming back to town."

Brooke narrows her eyes, "How'd _you_ hear that?"

"Jamie, dude," replies the redhead matter-of-factly, "Kid knows everything about everything… How you feeling about it?"

The brunette pouts her red lips in thought. Rachel eyes her friend curiously, waits for an answer.

"I'm feeling…" Brooke starts, pauses, "That it'll be trouble."

**-xx-**

The Naley backyard is full of little kids running around, tables are littered around the yard with food and presents. The parents are lingering on the sidelines eating the finger food and watching their little ones play.

Nate and Clay are hanging around the food table munching on Haley's special cookies, arguing over next year's contracts.

Brooke and Rachel sit by the pool, dip their toes in the warm water, and finish up a pitcher of homemade lemonade.

"Sad that this is the wildest party I've been to this week." Comments the redhead.

Brooke only laughs at the comment, then the Birthday Boy walks over to them.

Jamie's over the moon because Haley's older sister, Quinn James, showed up to surprise him. "Aunt Quinn is here," Jamie announces with a smile, "She surprised me with cake."

Clay's smirk widens, "Last time a girl surprised _me_ with cake–"

"Let's open gifts!" Cuts in Haley, glaring at Clay.

Still, it's Clay's gift that's the coolest of them all: Jerry Rice shows up, signs jerseys, and puts on a pretty good show for the kids.

Clay and Quinn are arguing sports, and it's interesting to watch.

"Listen, the Bobcats have no depth in the backcourt so get this guy _paid_, Jerry Maguire."

Now, Clay finds Quinn hot—which translated from Clay-English into normal English means she's fuckable, and he wouldn't mind being the one who fucks her. Which is why he humors her, "Jerry Maguire, huh?"

Nathan laughs, puts him in a headlock to give him a playful noogie, "Hands off, dude," he warns, "Quinnie's married."

Rachel, Brooke, and even Quinn laugh at the boys' pre-school antics.

**-xx-**

When Lucas Scott walks in he goes pretty unnoticed by most.

The kids and most of the adults are engrossed in a touch football game with Jerry Rice.

The Brooder takes a look at the game, spots Brooke and Rachel playing, and a smile tugs at his lips.

They've got Brooke at QB. He can hear her yell out: "Hut, hut, hike!" Watches her run around uncoordinatedly, waving the ball wildly in the air over her head, completely oblivious about how the game's supposed to be played. It's about the cutest thing ever.

Then an entirely different feeling tugs at his heart. Suddenly, looking at her he doesn't see just a sexy brunette—beautiful, brilliant, brave. She's something else entirely now.

The Road Not Taken: another history, another future, another chance, another fate entirely — infinite POSSIBILITIES. She's now a glimpse into another life entirely.

He wonders if it's the life he should've lived—the life he should be _living_.

"Luke!"


	2. Second Star To The Right

**AN:** Dudes! Sorry for the slight delay. My Internet died. But I'm back! Major thanks to everyone who read the first chapter of this new story! Ya'll are the bomb! I'm not entirely sure how long this is gonna be, but here's the next chapter: Lucas is back, and Peyton makes her entrance back to Tree Hill. Some parts of this are building up to lead into the next chapter, so tell me whatcha think, dudes…

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**Second Star To The Right, And Straight On Til Morning**

"Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence."

—J.M. Barrie

**-xx-**

Lucas walks into the quaint little dinner on 8th street and looks around for a familiar face.

Haley promptly spots him and waves him over, "Luke, here!"

They're on their best-friends coffee-date, which was previously arranged at Jamie's b-day bash.

"_Luke_!"

_The all-too familiar voice busts the Brooder out of his thoughts of roads-not-taken and could-have-beens. His best friend, Haley James-Scott, jogs over to him, jumps into his arms and engulfs him in a big bear hug. _

"_Ugh, having trouble breathing here," Lucas gasps out, the now copper-haired mother loosens her death grip on him, "Oh, I missed ya, too, Hales." He says, pressing a kiss to her forehead._

_He's pretty late for the party, sun's already started going down, and most of the parents are getting their kids and heading out. But Haley's missed him enough to forgive him his tardiness. She lets out a little squeal of joy, "I'm so excited that you're here!" she claps her hands, "Where are Peyton and Sawyer?"_

"No Peyton and Sawyer today, either, huh?" is the first thing Haley comments on.

Lucas smiles awkwardly. He can't dodge the question forever. Well, not as long as Haley is the one asking. That woman could break a damn CIA agent. "Things between me and Peyton aren't that good right now, Hales."

Haley's maternal instincts kick in automatically, a puncture of worry hitting her like a freight train. The first thing that comes to mind is Sawyer. No one should be forced to endure the Leyton Drama, much less an innocent one-year-old. "Well," she starts, "How bad? Is it something you guys can work through or…?"

The question is left to linger.

No one has dared utter the word '_divorce_', though it's run through the Brooder's mind on a couple of occasions.

But rather than pile on to his best friend's concern list on his first official day back in town, he just smiles. "I'd rather not talk about it right now. It's still kind of a sensitive subject." He says, "Besides, I was seriously overdue for some Haley-time. It's nice to have you all to myself."

"Yeah." The copper-haired mother agrees with a smile, "Haley-time _is_ pretty awesome." She concedes, decides to play along and change the subject, "So, what did you think of the party? Did you have a good time? Jamie was ecstatic to see you."

Lucas nods, "I did. Though I gotta say, I'm not longer J-Luke's favorite. He's really taken with Rachel."

"Trust me, I was _way_ more surprised than you are," answers Haley with a chuckle, "In fact, as I recall it, her first words to my six-year-old were: '_I remember when you were a rumor in third period_'. I wanted to smack her, but the kid was instantly fascinated. Such is the inexplicable allure of Rachel Gatina. You two got a chance to catch up?"

"Briefly," Lucas answers, recalls the first thing the redhead asked him:

'_Did you finally come to your senses and leave your deformed Barbie doll?_'

He shakes off the memory, "I didn't get to meet her kid—though she immediately assured me hers was prettier and smarter than mine. I wasn't aware it was a competition."

Haley smiles, "Well, I haven't seen my niece in a year, so I can't comment on that, but Jax_ is_ pretty damn cute." She jokes.

"Who's the father?" The blonde asks out of mild curiosity, eager to further push away the conversation from his marriage.

Haley purses her lips, "I honestly don't know." She answers, "Rachel and I aren't close enough that I feel comfortable pushing her about it and if Brooke knows, she's not telling me. It's a pretty touchy subject from what I can gather. Oh! Speaking of Brooke, did you get a chance to talk to her yesterday?"

"Yes, I did." The memory of his encounter with the short and bossy brunette hits him like a ton of bricks:

_He was talking to Rachel when the goddess-like brunette tugs on the redhead's arm, "C'mon, Rach!" Brooke prompts, "Clay and Jamie busted out the water guns we got him, and we just found a stash of leftover b-day balloons! Can you say water-fiiiight!"_

_When she notices him standing there, she flashes him one her trademark dimpled smiles. "Luke, you're here!" she declares, wraps her arms around him. He responds in kind—it's a patented Brooke/Lucas hug, the kind he hasn't had in far too long. _

_Then, just as quickly as she storms by, she's gone. Off to have a water fight_.

And a new question hit the Brooder: "Who was the other guy that was there last night—kinda scruffy, left with Brooke and Rachel?"

Haley shakes her head, "Clayton Evans," she informs him, "He's Nathan's agent. And…I guess he's part of the family by now."

Lucas picks something in her tone, but he isn't quite sure what it is. "You…don't like him?" He asks, venturing a guess.

Haley immediately shakes her head no, "God, of course I like him! I love Clay, and he _is_ part of the family. It's just…well I worry a lot. He's great with Jamie, and he's a good friend to Nathan, but...well, he' been palling around with Brooke for months now, and he's kind of...slutty, I guess. Oh, who am I kidding—he is a freaking man-child, and all those two do together is fool around. It's like everything's a damn game to them!"

Haley just sighs, "I don't know, lately I find myself wondering just how many children I'm responsible for."

Lucas purses his lips in thought.

Something about this new guy bothers him.

Especially hearing that he's basically a manwhore who spends his time fooling around with Brooke.

And what _exactly_ does fooling around mean, anyways?

**-xx-**

Brooke Davis bolts up awake at the loud banging at the front door.

_THUMP_-_THUMP_-_THUMP_!

Though it sounds more like someone's pounding the shit out of it, wanting to physically hurt the inanimate piece of wood. The brunette rolls over only to bump with a hard body. There, under her Egyptian cotton sheets, lies Clay.

It's starting to become a habit of his.

He sneaks in, crawls up into bed with her.

She's not entirely opposed to the idea. They both enjoy having a warm body.

Today, though, between the surprise of _not_ waking up alone and the fucker outside who's attempting to bring down her door, she's really not in the mood to deal with any of this.

She wraps her rope loosely around her body and walks downstairs. "All right, all right," she calls out, the hint of annoyance in her voice isn't subtle, "I'm coming. Keep your pants on!" She opens her front door to reveal the last person she'd expected to find: Peyton Sawyer-Scott.

"P. Sawyer," greets the brunette. She's still half-asleep, but her blonde friend is a more or less happy surprise, kind of at least. "Hey!"

But the curly haired blonde doesn't see it that way.

Nope, Peyton Sawyer-_Scott—_and yeah, she's still a Scott—is unbelievably pissed off right now. Said anger is currently directed at her former brunette best friend.

And so, instead of a hello, she greets Brooke with a hard slap right across the face. _He-llo_!

The loud smack pierces the previously quiet room, and Brooke stumbles backward at the strength of the blow. '_Fucking whore must be _off_ her rocker_!' the brunette thinks. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" she shrieks, shoving the skinny blonde backwards. _Hard_.

But Peyton merely slams the door closed behind her, "_You_ are what's wrong with me, Brooke!" she accuses, digs a bony finger into the brunette's chest, "What's wrong is that suddenly, _you_ are the poison that's polluting my marriage!"

Of course it's Brooke's fault that Peyton made an ill-timed, ill-advised declaration of her entirely incongruous and unreasonable feeling for Brooke's at-the-time-boyfriend, Lucas Scott.

Of course it's Brooke's fault that Peyton proceeded to drunkenly confess said confession to Lucas, oh, about seven years too late.

And furthermore, of course it's Brooke's fault that Lucas was (and still _is_) royally pissed off and perplexed by said revelation.

In the blonde's mind, she's not accountable for anything. Never has been.

But Brooke doesn't know what the fuck is up the Peyton's ass this time. She hasn't talked to either her or Lucas. Whatever the fuck's gone wrong this time, she's certain it can't possibly be about her.

"You're off base, Peyton. I've had nothing to do with either of you for the better part of a year!" She hisses, suddenly missing how entirely peaceful that year off had been. "And where in _the hell_ do you get off barging into _my_ house and _slapping_ me?"

Peyton rolls her eyes, "I'm protecting what's rightfully mine, you backstabbing, two-faced bitch!"

And those words hit Brooke like another hard slap across the face. Talk about hitting below the fucking belt.

"Jesus—are_ you_ seriously saying this to _me_ right now!" Brooke spits back, "Can you even hear yourself? The only backstabbing two-faced bitch in _this_ friendship"—she pauses, gestures between them—"has _always_ been _YOU_! Or have you forgotten which one of us is the self-serving witch with an uncanny ability to play the martyr?"

Peyton scoffs, "Funny _you_ should talk about playing the martyr, the perpetually altruistic Brooke Davis!"

And enough's ENOUGH.

At hearing that, Brooke's hand flies up to slap Peyton right across the face. A fairly large red imprint of her hand now marks the skinny blonde's features.

Peyton gasps in surprise—never in a thousand years had she thought Brooke would actually _hit_ her. "Watch it, I've kicked your ass before, whore," she warns, one hand rubbing her red cheek, the other pointing an accusing finger at Brooke, "I can do it again!"

The blonde towers over the tiny brunette, and Brooke internally curses her: '_Damn the fugly giantess_!'

"Fuck you, Peyton!" Brooke hisses back, "I can handle myself, so if you wanna go there, then lets go there already and quit talking smack!" her small hands ball-up into fists.

Peyton rears back her arm, ready to land a punch across the brunette's jaw. But Brooke has learned to handle herself in a fight (she even keeps the gun Deb gave her locked up in her room, but this hardly seems serious enough to warrant pulling out a piece), so she easily dodges the hit and—_purely on reflex—_proceeds to land a solid right hook on the blonde's nose.

_Fuck_! There's a part of the brunette that's hugely pleased with herself, but there's another part wondering what the fuck this whole thing's been about and just how exactly did she end up busting her former best friend's nose.

Peyton tips her head back, pinches the bridge of her nose in an attempt to staunch the blood flowing freely from her nostrils. "This is so not over, you cheap-ass whore!" she declares before storming out the same door she came in from.

Clay stands atop the stairs in his navy-blue sailboat boxers, his arms crossed over the banister, "Yo, you okay?" he calls out, letting out a chuckle when he sees Brooke's unharmed. "What the fuck was _that_?"

But Brooke doesn't have time to answer him. From somewhere between the couch cushions, her iPhone's incessant ringing beckons her. She frees it from its hiding spot, answers it abruptly: "_What_?" she pinches the cell phone between her cheek and her collarbone as she picks up a pair of skinny-jeans and slides them on. "Fuck! Ugh, I'll be right there."

Brooke turns her attention back to Clay, "_That_," she makes a derogative gesture towards the front door with her hands, "was Peyton '_I'm-An-Ungrateful-Bitch-For-No-Good-Reason_' Sawyer!" she then shoves the iPhone in her back pocket, "And _that_ was Millicent. Problems at the shoot, I have to head over there." She climbs the stairs two at a time in a rush to get to her bedroom, "And _you_," she pokes a finger into Clay's strong, bare chest, "need to stop letting yourself in here in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with me."

Clay smirks, "Well, you didn't complain last night when you draped yourself all over me as soon as got into bed."

Brooke flips him off, yells, "Fuck off!" as she slides on a clean top and searches for a pair of shoes.

But Clay shrugs the insult off, follows her into the bedroom, "I'd rather fuck _you_," he says as stands behind her and wraps and arm around her trim waist. His bare chest pressed tantalizingly against her back, "That way we can _both_ get off." His seductive tone is dangerous as his free hand sneaks under her top and trails up her stomach, leaving goose bumps in its wake. He spins her around before reaching her breasts, grabs her chin between his thumb and forefinger tilting her face up before crashing his lips against hers.

Brooke doesn't put much (_any_) effort into fighting him.

Clayton Evans is an excellent kisser, and it's easy to get carried away with him. Her taut arms wrap around his neck and that's his cue—he lifts her up easily, her long legs wrapping around his waist automatically, and he carries her over to the bed.

His strong body hovers over hers radiating an unknown heat, and his hands seems to be everywhere at the same time, encouraging her body to take the lead over her head. He's kissing that spot on her neck that drives her wild. She knows she should pull him off before they get too far, but she's still a little pissed off, the fire of the fight burning within her, and she's horny, too. Might as well admit that.

Angry sex is always hotter than regular sex, she knows this fact all too well.

But before she can make up her mind either way, the decision's made for her. While Clay kisses a trail down her stomach, he's sliding off her jeans, and her iPhone's ringing again. Her hand reaches down to get it and answer, she knows without looking that it's work calling again.

Clay does a solid effort to retain her attention: he's kissing the inside of her thighs softly. Then, a finger slides under the elastic of her panties, and glides into her just as she answers the call. "_Yeah_," Brooke yelps, her tone raspier than ever as if she's attempting to catch her breath.

"O-o-oh," she exclaims, her back arching up to meet Clay's rhythm, "Ah! Um, yeah, no, I'm here. It's fine," her chest is still heaving, and she's only capable of half-listening to everything. "I got it. I'll be there in five."

It's now or never for him, this is as close as he's ever gotten to having sex with her, and it's already better than any he's ever had. Her body is flawless, her skin is soft and sweet against his warm mouth, and if the way she grounds her pelvis against him is any indication, she is damn good at _everything_ she does. "I'm gonna need _more_ than five minutes, Sugarpop," he says gutturally, this time nipping the inside of her thigh.

Brooke clamps her hand around his wrist, pulls his hand away, "I _gotta_ go." She informs him, rolls him off the lower half of her body. He wants to argue, get a chance to sweet-talk her back into bed—he's good at that—but his own phone starts buzzing in his pants' pockets. He gets off the bed, picks up his jeans off the floor and retrieves his phone.

It's the alarm he set up for his meeting with Nathan later today.

Now, Brooke's got her jeans back on and she's making sure her top's on right. Clay follows suit, slides on his jeans and shirt. She grabs her purse and he knows she's ready to run out the door and pretend this whole thing never happened.

"Hey," Clay grabs her arm, half-turns her body to meet his, "Finish this later?" he asks, his cobalt blue eyes burrowing into her hazel ones.

Suddenly, Brooke feels pinned down under the weight of his stare. She licks her lips, "Um, stop by the store after your meeting." she tells him, "You're taking Jax to Micky D's, remember?"

Clay ponders her response over for a second, "Yeah." He drops her arm, setting her free, and goes back to buttoning up a few buttons on his shirt, "I'll be there."

He's not exactly sure what the fuck just happened, but he knows she won't let her guard down any time soon so it can happen again.

**-xx-**

Brooke arrives at the rooftop of her store in full-on problem solving mode.

Quinn James is finishing setting up her equipment.

Meanwhile Millicent is futilely attempting to defuse a soon-to-break-out catfight.

Rachel and the new model, Alex Dupree, just can't get along.

(Makes sense. Two Queen Bitches don't usually play well together.)

Jax is sitting in his playpen giggling. He's apparently very amused watching his mommy threatening to 'rip the bitch's extensions out of her damaged scalp'.

Brooke sighs, pulls her hair up into a makeshift ponytail. She does her best to talk the redhead down, but this new girl won't back down either.

Finally, they both shove her out of the way to get in each other's faces, screaming indistinctive insults over each other.

Brooke rolls her eyes—fuck this! She sticks two fingers in her mouth and lets out a piercing wolf-whistle, "Yo, bitches, tear each other's hair out later!" she barks at them, "Right now, you're both working and I'm not frigging paying you to argue. So, get your asses in fuckin' gear!"

Quinn announces that she's ready for the model.

God bless her and her awesome timing, thinks the brunette as she shoves Alex in front of the blue-screen.

It's the longest photo shoot in history, and as soon as they wrap Millicent dutifully whisks Alex away before any further trouble has a chance to start.

"I told you hiring that brat was a bad idea." Rachel shrugs off her jacket and her backless dress reveals a small intricate tattoo between her shoulder blades.

"Whoa, what's that?" Brooke asks, pulls her closer to get a good look, "Is that a crow? When did you get that?"

"I got it a while back. Before I had Jax." Answers Rachel dismissively picks up Jax into her arms.

Brooke furrows her brow, "You been keepin' it hidden or something?"

"Not at all."

"Hey, girls!" Haley arrives with coffee and bagels just in time to go over the day's proofs.

The new line's fabulous, and Quinn even managed to snap a few shots of Rachel and Brooke with Jax, which she promises to email them.

Clay's the last to show, entirely bummed that he missed meeting the new model.

As promised, he takes Jax down to Micky D's to play while the girls finish clearing out the rooftop.

**-xx-**

A few hours later, they're back at Casa de Brooke. They're lying down on the wooden floor of the deck forming a T, their heads barely touching each other. Brooke and Clay are in a straight line with Rachel interposed between them, effectively forming two right angles.

It's a little tradition for them.

Sometimes at night, when Jax is deep asleep, they head out unto the deck to shoot the shit.

Occasionally they pull out a bottle of wine, but they prefer not to.

In Rachel's words: "She doesn't need to get a booze addiction, too. Just the one will do."

They discuss the serious gossip first:

Peyton's bitch fit and her totally random attack on Brooke.

Lucas' message on her machine apologizing profusely, yet failing to explain why Peyton had gone off like that.

Then they move on to more random subjects.

Rachel laughs, "Seriously, though," she says, stares up at the night stars—and how weird is it that Tree Hill is still one of those weird places where you can actually _see_ the stars? "Not even when I was little girl playing with dolls did I ever want to be a mom…"

"You're a good mom, Rach." Assures Brooke.

Rachel scoffs, "Oh, I _know_ that, slut. I'm a fuckin' kick-ass mother." And she says it so matter-of-factly that it doesn't even sound like an attempt at cockiness, but like it's the simple truth, which it is anyways. "I'm just saying…it's not where I thought I'd end up."

A smile tugging at his lips, Clays asks: "And what _exactly_ did my Little Red Riding Hood want to be when she grew up?"

"Easy," Rachel smirks, "I wanted to be rich and beautiful. And I'm halfway there, now if just hit the lotto or somethin', I'll be two for two."

This elicits a laugh from both Brooke and Clay. The brunette arches her head in an attempt to look at Clay, but only manages to see his spiky head of hair, "How 'bout you, Agent Boy?" she asks him, "What did Clayton Evans want to be when he grew up?"

"I wanted to be Peter Pan."

Brooke laughs and rolls her eyes. It makes perfect sense: Clay _is_ the boy who never grew up.

Sure, now instead of playing pretend with toys he likes to fuck around with women, but he's still a kid at heart.

An egotistic, self-indulgent, self-serving kid, but a kid nonetheless.

Clay licks his lips, rolls over to lie on his stomach and rests his weigh on his elbows. He positions his face above Brooke's, his eyes lock with hers, and even when he's looking at her upside down, she's still fucking beautiful. "C'mon, Tink," he tempts, excitement in his voice, "fly away with me to Neverland, and promise me we'll never have to grow up and get boring!"

The redhead wants to gag at the cheesiness, but her brunette best friend merely smiles.

"You silly ass." Brooke says to Clay before propping herself up on her elbows to peck his lips. But it's not long before a peck becomes a kiss and his expert tongue is delving into her mouth.

Rachel's mocking sneer pulls them apart, "God!" she scoffs, "Keep it fuckin' PG. I'm sitting right here, and despite being up for many freaky things, I'm not into playing voyeur."

That's Brooke's cue.

She stands up, and heads inside, calls out over her shoulder, "Lock up when you're done," She eyes Clay carefully, "And stay out of my room tonight, Evans. I'm serious."

Clay's cobalt eyes shift from the brunette's perfectly shaped ass to Rachel, "You're her best friend." He states, "You know her—_why_ won't she have sex with me? I know she wants to."

Rachel flashes him her all-knowing smile, "Of course she does, have you seen you? You're hot." She tells him matter-of-factly, "You're also the only man in her life who's never disappointed her. She doesn't want that to go away. She doesn't want one night of fucking to ruin one year of friendship."

"And you'd think fucking would bring us closer together."

The redhead smacks him upside the head, "Ease off her, Sunshine." Advises Rachel, "The only time you'll get Brooke Davis to spread her legs open for you is when she's damn good and ready."

"I've never been any good at the waiting game, Red."

**-xx-**

Things in the Lucas/Peyton marriage aren't getting any better.

Moving back home has done nothing to relief the tension.

They just fight more and more.

Lucas still can_not_ believe she went all psycho barging into Brooke's home to start a catfight.

He just can't keep on living with a crazy person.

At Peyton's insistence, they try couples therapy.

It ends up being counter productive at best. Still, Lucas _does_ dig deeper into why it was all so upsetting. And that big realization occurs during the first session to boot.

The curly haired blonde is being über-annoying, claims to not understand why they even _need_ to do this, and it's only further driving Lucas up a wall.

"It's always been us. Wasn't that your big moment of clarity," she starts, pauses to recite the words she's memorized by heart, "_In that moment, my triumph was not a State Championship, but simple clarity. The realization that we had always been meant for each other, and every instinct to the contrary had simply been a denial of the following truth. I was now and would always be in love with Peyton Sawyer_."

Lucas feels like slamming his chair through the window—it's _his_ fucking book and she's using it against him. How's _that_ fair? He was eighteen when he wrote that bull. What the fuck did he know back then?

"We chose each other, Luke!" Peyton shrieks, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

That does it for him.

"No, _we_ didn't choose anything! _You_ got to make your choice, Peyt. But you…_stole_ mine. You didn't tell me the whole story. You saw how fucked up I was over everything that had gone down. Shit, you hung around me 24/7 trying to help me—where you _ever_ really helping me or was that a lie, too? I feel like I fucking don't know anything anymore. And, yeah, maybe you're right. Maybe it would've been us all along regardless of everything and everybody else, but…now it feels like it's all been a _lie_."

"What lie! You loved me back then, and you love me now. We're supposed to be together. We've _always_ been supposed to be together. You're my _soulmate_, Luke."

Lucas scoffs in frustration. How the fuck is it possible that she's still not listening to him? "Yeah, I don't _KNOW_ that anymore!" His navy blue eyes suddenly seem ice cold. "What I _do_ know is that there's always been someone standing between us, and I figured it was fate that kept pushing us together, but now it all feels orchestrated."

"How can you say that?" She wails, tears flowing freely from her eyes.

Before, he'd have felt the instinctual need to comfort her. Now, it all seems like a cheap manipulating ploy. "Seriously, you gonna say anything?" he lays back, crosses his arms over his chest like an annoyed child, "We're not paying you to watch us fight."

Their therapist concludes that their relationship has always thrived on drama and conflict. According to her, one of them always plays the role of **The Hero** (Lucas), while the other plays the role of **The Victim** (Peyton). Now that their life circumstances have extricated them from those roles, they seem to be fixated with antagonizing each other and all the while simultaneously victimizing themselves.

Peyton frowns, "I do _not_ victimize myself." She hisses.

To which Lucas immediately scoffs, "Yeah, and I'm Leonardo DiCaprio."

Peyton only gasps in severe offense.

The look on their therapist's face says it all.

Lucas rolls his eyes, puts her thoughts into words: "Yeah, lady," he says harshly, "You're lookin' to make a fortune off of us."

**-xx-**

After just a few days, Lucas is not sure why he continues to dole out the dough for these therapy sessions.

He and Peyton have already 'separated'.

He's back at his childhood home. (The one that no longer has a Red Door.)

All they do in the sessions by now is argue over inconsequential matters.

Like last week:

"_Puh_-lease!" hollers Lucas, throws his arms up in frustration, "I let you name our daughter after the shirtless dude from Lost! I mean, I know you were all 'back from the brink of death' and all that shit, but that was just plain stupid!"

Peyton gasps, mouth gapping into a perfect '**O**', and a hand flies up over her chest as if she's deeply shocked and hurt, "You told me you _loved_ that name!"

"Well, I _lied_," he leans back into the couch with a smirk of satisfaction, "Doesn't feel too good, does it?"

**-xx-**

Early mornings are pretty slow at the store, but Rachel's there working anyway and Haley drops in with coffee sometimes.

Today was one of those days.

Except it's all a little different this morning.

It's shocking, to say the least, that the Lucas/Peyton marriage is lasting even less than Britney and K-Fed's did.

Lucas Scott and Peyton Sawyer are teetering on the edge of divorce.

It's the biggest rumor to hit Tree Hill since Nathan's alleged lovechild scandal—which Haley still isn't ready to joke about yet.

Brooke's absentmindedly working on new designs and Haley's sitting on the counter playing with Jax cooing over missing the days when Jamie was a baby and Rachel's eyeing the clothes racks looking for something new to wear.

Rachel holds up a top in front her, "How about this one?"

Brooke raises her eyes from her sketchpad. "Too tight, Rach."

"Yeah," Haley agrees, bounces Jax in her lap, "It makes you look trashy."

"Ooh!" Rachel smirks, "You've talked me into it. I'll take it!"

Brooke and Haley laugh at that. The copper-haired mom sips her latte, leans over the counter and eyes the brunette curiously, asks: "Talk to Lucas or Peyton lately?"

It's been three days since Psycho Peyton made a comeback, and Haley knows from Lucas that they're trying couples therapy, but it isn't yielding the expected fruitful results.

Brooke sighs, "Lucas has called more times than Ms. Manners deems appropriate, left a message apologizing on Peyton's behalf. But I haven't called him back." She answers, "And I'm not exactly waiting around for Peyton's 'I'm Sorry' card. I'm staying clear of all blonde-haired people with a shitload of emotional baggage until they work their stuff out. And I'm sure as hell _not_ about to be dragged back into a Bermuda Love Triangle from hell."

"Wow," Haley pouts her lips in thought, "That is a logical well thought-out and mature answer, Brooke."

The brunette laughs, "Well, all that time hanging out around you, Hales, about time something good rubbed off on me."

But just because it's Tree Hill, and things there never get boring for long, the bell that announces a customer has arrived rings.

There stands a guy in jeans and a sports coat. He takes off his Ray Bans and flashes them a lascivious smile. "_Well, well_," he says, "If it isn't my three favorites slices of cheerleader pie."

Both Brooke and Rachel furrow their brows in shock and horror, but it's Haley who expresses the sentiment out loud: "No_ fuckin'_ way!"

"That's right, ladies," the guy announces, "The Keller's back in town!"


	3. In Which Lucas Finds His Volition

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**AN**: So, long story short, my computer died. Everything I had for this and my other story died with it. Rewriting everything's been a serious bitch. I am severely pissed off about. Hope you guys are still reading. This chapter's kind of Lucas-centered. Tell me whatcha think, dudes.

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**In Which Lucas Finds His Volition**

"A person with half volition goes backwards and forwards, but makes no progress even on the smoothest roads."

—Thomas Carlyle

**-xx-**

Haley's eyes widen like saucers. "_No _fuckin_' way_!"

Rachel smirks, "Ooh!" she taunts, "Look who's gonna be dropping a buck in the Swear Jar today."

Haley has been bothering them with the Swear Jar thing all year now, and the redhead is happy to have the Teacher/Rockstar Mom add to the fund.

Chris Keller stands there, leaning against the door of the C-o-B store. His smile is still as lecherous as ever as he eyes his favorite former cheerleaders.

(They've gotten a little older for his taste, but he'd still tap that in a heartbeat, though. He's _Chris Keller_, after all.)

"Well, don't all jump up to greet the Keller at once, ladies," his arms spread out at his sides, as if waiting for some sort of embrace or warm welcome. They flap down and he shrugs in defeat. "Fine. If that's how you wanna roll, that's cool." He approaches the counter, wags a playful finger at Jax and makes a funny face.

"Cute kid," he declares, cuts his eyes to Brooke, "Yours?"

It's Rachel who possessively answers: "Mine."

The blonde boy stretches out his arms towards his mother, and the redhead picks him up.

"Cool." Chris grins once more, "Can I hold it?"

The collective "**_NO_!**" that emanates from the three women insults him a bit. It's not like he's gonna drop it or anything.

"_Geez_," He backs away a few steps, "Everyone's so sensitive. Ever heard of being an overprotective parent?"

"Chris," hisses Haley as if his name is somehow poisonous. "_What_ are you doing here?"

If there's one thing Haley James-Scott is sure of, it's that Chris Keller belongs to her past. He's filed away in her mind somewhere between 'I can't believe I did that' and 'Never again'. And while she prides herself on being a fairly intelligent woman, a part of her brain simply cannot process that _Chris Keller_ is currently standing in her best friend's store.

In Tree Hill.

She's used to the idea of him—the poster from their tour with The Wreckers is hanging in her living room.

(A tour during which they'd grown close, during which he'd become her on-the-road Lucas when she needed a friend.)

But seeing him here now, he's the guy who played a huge part in her nearly losing her marriage all those years ago.

Chris Keller grins, "I'm here to record my next hit album." He answers easily. The perplexed looks he receives from all three woman annoy him. He proceeds to pull out an old napkin from his jeans' front pocket, "A while ago, I ran into Curly at a bar. I was pissed at my current label, and she pretty much offered to sign me. Told me that when I was ready to record my next EP, I should do it with her." And sure, Peyton was a little bit bombed when she did that, but it still counts. He slides the napkin over to Haley, "Even got it in writing and everything."

Haley snatches the napkin up, Brooke and Rachel automatically crowd around her to read it over her shoulders.

_The copper-haired mother scoffs, "This can_not_ be legally binding."_

"Napkin might not be," Chris Keller shrugs, props himself up on the counter next to Haley, "But the verbal agreement is pretty binding—my lawyer told me so." His hands are tucked in his pants' pockets, and his smile isn't all that lewd, and he's rocking himself on his toes, and suddenly he doesn't look like the Devil.

Too bad they know better than to judge a book by it's cover.

Chris steps a little closer to them, "Look, I made it. The Keller's a self-made Rockstar now. But it's undeniable that my best work was with you—"When the Stars Go Blue" is still my best-selling single." He pulls out a CD from his coat's pocket, "And now I've found our next duet." He slides the plastic CD case across the smooth counter's surface. "Listen to it. I _know_ you'll like it. And it's all set up: rights and royalties are all covered. All you gotta do is say yes."

And just as easily as he walks in to disturb their peace, Chris Keller walks out.

The three women stand there in a perplexed silence. Haley remains rooted on her spot atop the store's counter eyeing the CD as if it were a ticking time-bomb she's scared to touch. To her right, Brooke's got her arms crossed over the counter. To Haley's left, Rachel stands with her son in her arms and an amused smirk adorns her face.

"And just when things are starting to get dull," the redhead starts, her tone laced with sarcasm, "Chris Keller blows back into town."

And, as if to punctuate the moment, Jax blurts out: "Kellel!" excitedly.

**-xx-**

Brooke stands outside the Naley house, Jax in her arms, absentmindedly playing with her chocolate locks of hair, her purse on one shoulder and his bag on the other while she struggles to get the front door open.

"Bamie, Bamie, Bamie!" claps Jax, excited to play with the older boy.

Brooke balances him against her hip, kisses the side of his head, "Yes, baby, you're gonna get to play with Jamie very soon." She scrunches up her nose, "What's that noise, handsome?" Music (what sounds like Michael Bublé's _Save the Last Dance for Me_) echoes throughout the house. "Naley plus one!" she calls out, drops both bags on the table by the front door, "I'm here!"

The cheery brunette walks towards the kitchen and spots Haley dancing (or at least trying to) with Nathan, and Jamie sitting on a kitchen stool attempting not to double over from laughter. It's only been a day since Chris Keller's stellar return to town and she's happy to see that the news have not affected her favorite couple.

"And in today's episode of Dancing With The Stars: rock star Haley James-Scott and Bobcats' star point guard Nathan Scott." Brooke voices dramatically.

"Not much dancing going on," says Haley as she goes back to cooking lunch, "I won't be able to feel my feet soon at the rate that this one keeps stepping on them." She playfully nudges Nathan who simply smirks and raises his palms as if to declare his innocence.

Jamie chuckles, "Yeah, Dad, no offense," he says, shaking his head at his father, "but you suck at this."

Nathan groans as if he's in profound pain, "Ugh, betrayed by my _only_ son!"

This causes Jax to giggle before he yells: "Bamie!" and jumps into his cousin's arms. "Play." The toddler declares seriously. And Jamie obeys, taking Jax upstairs to his room. He's taken on a big brother role with Jax, always looking out for him and playing with him.

Once the kids are out earshot, Brooke asks, "So, did you listen to Keller's song yet?" she reaches out to steal one of the carrots that Haley is cutting up and takes a bite, eyeing her friend questioningly.

Haley remains focused on the task at hand, chopping up those carrots as if her life depends on it, and completely avoiding eye contact with Brooke.

Nathan smirks, "Yes." He answers for her, "She downloaded it to her iPhone last night and listened to it." He answers for his wife. "It's good. She likes it. But she doesn't want to do it."

"Well, why not?" asks Brooke surprised. She eyes Haley, "I know you've been having a hard time in the studio. Maybe Chris is that little push you need to get back on stage."

At Haley's silence, Nathan answers for his wife once more: "Hales is scared that working with Keller is gonna," he pauses to make finger air-quotes, "'stir trouble up with us.'"

"Ugh, I am not scared," shrieks Haley defensively, "I'm just saying, Chris is trouble. And we've got more than enough drama right now. We don't need any more of it."

Nathan circles an arm around his wife's waist and kisses the side of her head, "Babe," he says, his tone bordering on placating, "I told you already: high school was like a million years ago. Our marriage is rock-solid. And I'm fairly certain that Chris didn't roll back into town to win you back. For once, I think he's being honest and it's all about the music."

Haley pouts, "Since when are you on Team Chris Keller?"

"I'm on Team _Naley_," he says, pecks her lips, "Look, Keller's not so bad. And, besides being a complete douche-bag, he's…kind of okay."

"He's got a point, Hales," chimes in Brooke, "All of that other stuff is ancient history. He's good for your music. I say go for it."

Haley furrows her brow in that intense way she does whenever she's focusing really hard on something. "All right," she says hesitantly, "I'll call him after lunch."

"Anyone home?" calls out Lucas before he walks into the kitchen.

Next to him, clutching his hand to steady herself, is Sawyer Brooke Scott.

Widened hazel eyes focus on the twenty-month-old baby girl—it's one thing to know that your ex-boyfriend's got this kid who looks like it could be yours, but it's another thing entirely to see said kid in person.

Haley and Nathan greet Lucas and they busy themselves cooing over how big Sawyer's gotten.

Brooke merely stares—the chestnut colored locks falling perfectly messily on the little girl's forehead, the oh-so-blue eyes, and the smile that (though it isn't dimpled) lights up her face entirely.

There's very little of Peyton in the girl.

"Hi, Brooke," greets Lucas, pulling her into a half-hug.

"Um, yeah, hey, Luke," Brooke mutters, quickly snapping out her stupor. "Wow. Sawyer's so big."

Lucas picks up Sawyer, "Hey, baby girl," he tells his daughter, "This is a very special person. This is your godmother and your Aunt Brooke. You're named after her, you know. Wanna say hi?"

Sawyer extends her arms out for a hug, and Brooke wraps her arms around the little girl, "Hi, sweets," she whispers quietly. "It is very nice to meet you. She's beautiful, Lucas."

"Yeah, she is. She's perfect." Lucas is clearly beaming with pride, "You know, I think she looks like you."

At that, Brooke smiles the smile that's broken a thousand hearts, and Lucas just flashes her his half-smirk (and though his is far more tender than Nathan's ever was, it's _his_ that's the half-smirk that had managed to destroy Brooke's heart twice).

"Hales," says Brooke, cutting her eyes to the copper-haired mother, "I gotta go. Rae told me she's picking up Jax around six. I left his bag in the living room."

Haley nods, "Okay," she says, "You sure you don't want to stay for lunch?"

"I'm already running late." Brooke says as she grabs her purse, "I'll see you tomorrow." She waves goodbye and walks out.

Haley's maternal-senses are a-tingling. Not only is Chris Keller back in town, but Lucas is having some sort of marriage crisis, and Brooke is getting a little distant, and Rachel and Clay always have something going on so who knows what they're coming up with this week.

**-xx-**

Luke leans back into the lawn-chair, takes a pull from the beer bottle in his hands.

He is twenty-six.

He's graduated high school, graduated college.

He's gotten a real job. (For a while, anyways.)

He's published a book. (A history of what, at the time, had felt like the best years of his life.)

And then another one. (Which had come to act as a metaphor of his love life, at least according to everybody else. And which had also epically crashed on sales. He tries not to think what that meant for the metaphor.)

This is it. He is an adult. There is nothing more left. This is his life.

And he is a man now, in many ways so far away from the idealistic boy he'd once been—the boy who believed in providence and destiny and fate.

His ocean-blue eyes focus on the wedding band in his ring finger. That boy is gone now. Now, in his place, there is only a man who believes in Comets. (Or at least he is supposed to. He doesn't know _what_ he believes anymore.)

Heavy eyelids flutter closed, memories from what seems like a lifetime ago flood the eldest Scott's brain.

'_You say Brooke's the one_—_your soulmate. Well, if that's the case, call upon destiny or providence or whatever forces are gonna bring you two together and make the shot. Blindfolded_.'

'_This is ridiculous_!'

'_Come on! It's your destiny_—_you _can't_ miss_. _Now follow my voice: if Brooke's the one,_ _make the shot_.'

Dribble. Shot.

'_What happened_?'

'_It went in_.'

"What's going through that head, Luke?" Haley's voice pulls him from his daydream. The copper-haired mother sits on the lawn-chair opposite his, props her bare feet on his lap, a glass of wine in her hand. "You seemed like you were somewhere else for a second."

Lucas licks his lips. "I was."

"Wanna share?"

"Just…light-years away from here, Hales. Thinking about the past, about reasons…"

'_She's The One_.'

'_Why_?'

'_She just is. I feel it. You know, Pascal says the heart has reasons that reason cannot know_.'

"There's the Broody best friend I know and love!" Haley punches his arm lightly, takes a sip from her wine glass.

His blue eyes seem a little heavier, "Ever have one of those days where you question every decision you've ever made? When you look at that one moment where everything changed, and wonder if you made the right choice? That maybe if you'd chosen differently that _one time_, you'd be living another life."

'_You ever wonder if we chose the right paths?_'

'_Sometimes. But I have all these wonderful things in my life. Things I wouldn't have had otherwise_.'

'_No, you're right. You're right. Me, too. I don't know._'

Haley sighs heavily, "Luke," her tone is laced with worry, "I don't know what happened between you and Peyton, and maybe I won't understand it, but it cannot possibly be that bad. I mean, you can't be doubting _everything_. Peyton was the dream, right? She's what you wished for: the one you've _always_ wanted…" and there's a question in her tone, but she doesn't ask it.

"Not always." Lucas mutters under his breath.

'_It's not a booty call. It's the opposite of that_.'

'_Why, because she's The One_? _Do you realize how screwed up that logic is_?'

'_I made the shot_.'

'_So you made a lucky shot_. _Do you really think there's only person in the entire planet that's right for you_?'

'_I do_.'

'_Okay. What about Peyton_? _I heard you once had the same feelings for her. Maybe she's the one. Or, being that we're still in high school, maybe you haven't met the one_.'

'_But I have. And she's in that apartment_.'

Haley snaps her fingers in front of his face, pulls him from his daze once again, "Where do you keep disappearing to?" she sighs, "Look, I'm not…I won't meddle anymore. But will say this: you need to make up your mind. Because it's not just about you two anymore. There's Sawyer to think about. That little girl deserves more than two parents who resent each other. And in a marriage, you can't be half-in. You're either all in or all out." She sighs, "Luke, you're my best friend, and I love you, and I just want you to be okay."

Lucas' eyes rise to meet Haley. His little girl has been the center of his whole world from the minute she was born. And he ultimately wants what's best for _her_. But…

"I know that, Hales. I guess just can't shake this feeling, you know?" Luke sighs. Peyton was supposed to be the dream, but Brooke had been his dream once, too. So… "I guess I wonder," he purses his lips, "what exactly happens to a dream deferred?"

Haley tenderly puts her hand over his and grips it tightly, "I don't know, Luke." She says sadly, "Even Langston Hughes couldn't figure that one out."

Luke sighs, rubs his eyes. The bitch about thinking back is all the _what-could-have-beens_. The life you could have had…

'_We're gonna to be a power couple! He's gonna be a famous novelist, and I'm gonna have a fabulous fashion line._'

The family they could have made together…

'_But we're still going to have time for a big family_.'

'_Two boys and a girl_.'

But mostly he wonders about what spending the last couple of years with Brooke would have been like…

'_But it won't matter where we are, as long as we're together_.'

'_That's the key. Success is wonderful, but finding someone to love, having them love you back. Love is what it's all about_.'

Haley squeezes his hand again, flashes him a sad smile, "What do you really want, Luke?"

Lucas can remember a time when the answer to that would have been easy…

It's just more complicated now.

**-xx-**

As Lucas sits there in the therapist's office on one couch with Peyton, and looks at the other couch currently occupied by Nathan, Haley and Brooke, it occurs to him that this is really a _shitty_ idea.

He doesn't really know why he agreed to it in the first place.

After hearing so much about the weight Nathan and Haley carry in Lucas and Peyton's life, and after hearing about 'the incident' (which is how they dubbed Peyton going all psycho on Brooke), the psychiatrist invited them all down for a group session.

It is a tad unorthodox, but they've been an unorthodox couple all throughout therapy.

The therapist asks if anyone would like to express themselves.

The awkward silence is so intense you could hear a pin drop, and its Nathan who first breaks the tense silence.

"Well, I think this is all a very bad idea." Pipes in Nathan with a surprisingly even look, "I mean, we were all so immensely relieved when Lucas and Peyton _finally_ got married 'cause we just figured that way the circle of drama that surrounds them would finally be over. But it never really is, is it? And we all get pulled into it time and time again." He cuts his eyes to Haley, "Like, babe, I know Lucas is your best friend—and he's my _brother_—and that gets him a pass so you're on his corner by default, but…well, he and Peyton are just selfish sons of bitches. They leave a trail of broken people and broken hearts everywhere they go. Look at the list: Luke got with Brooke, and then made out with Peyton. Then he got with Brooke again, only to kiss Peyton again. And lets not forget Lindsay—poor kid never stood a chance and she didn't even know it.

"Peyton's list is worse. Not only did she screw her best friend over _twice_, but also when Luke balled up and proposed she said _no_—after the slit-my-wrists emo-fest, she said _NO_. You'd think that'd be the end of it, but then she popped up back here when the sucker's engaged to someone else and declared that oh, yeah, she _does_ want him after all. And in that interlude, Julian got his heart stomped and his 'nads cut off on top of it. Not to mention Jake…this one she says she DOES want, and then rolled in the I-love-Lucas train."

Upon snapping out of her shock, Haley slaps her husband's forearm reprimandingly, "Nathan!"

"Ouch!" Nathan exclaims, rubs his arm, "Wha—it's the truth, Hales!" he defends, "I thought this was supposed to be a 'safe space' or whatever." He adds, making somewhat mocking air quotes.

"Well, that's certainly something to consider…" mutters the wide-eyed psychiatrist, wildly scribbles on her yellow note-pad.

Yep. These people definitely have Dr. Phil type of issues. Either that or they should go on Jerry Springer.

Peyton finally manages to snap out of her shock, "Ugh, you are such a dick, Nathan!"

"Ah, shut _up_, Peyton!" groans Lucas, rubs his temples, "He is a dick, but he's also right." He lets out a wry chuckle, "You and me—we're _toxic_ together. We break everything we touch. We _wreck _everyone we're with. And what's worst, we _defend_ it. We pretend that it's all justified in the name of some sick 'True Love Always' we made up in our own heads. But it's not. We are not an epic tragedy…we're just this colossal train wreck. Everyone else just ends up as collateral damage."

Brooke lets out a scoff, "Ugh, enough!" she exclaims disgustedly. "Newsflash: High School is _over_! Now we're adults. You two got married. You have a _kid_! Get your shit together, and move on already! Peyton, if you have a shitty relationship, don't drag me into it because I want no part of it. Marriage by definition is only two people so quit trying to pin whatever bullshit problems you have on me." Then she turns to Lucas, "And you! For _once_ in your goddamned life make up your fucking mind already! Work it out, get a divorce, pull a murder-suicide pact and put an end to ceaseless drama already—I don't fucking care anymore, just keep me out of it!"

That's when the office door bursts open and Clay walks in. He's wearing pinstriped pants, black Converse, a white button-down with suspenders, Ray-Ban sunglasses, and a fedora hat. His expert fingers are gliding quickly over his Blackberry's keyboard as he sends off another text.

Peyton's eyes throw daggers at him because who the fuck is he?

Lucas simply glares—what the fuck's the tool doing _here_?

Haley pinches the bridge of her nose. Thinks: '_This just goes from bad to worse_.'

Brooke sees him as her escape route. Thinks: '_Thank God_!'

But Nathan busts out chuckling, presses a fist against his mouth to stifle the sound, "Dude, what the hell's that ridiculous thing on your head?"

"Hey, don't hate!" exclaims Clay, tilts the hat a little, "This thing's old-school Rat Pack, man. It's a _Classic_."

The raven-haired Scott rolls his eyes, "Whatever, Frankie. Hat's a little pimped out is all I'm saying."

"This is a St. Germaine wide brim hat, dude." Clay states with far more seriousness than the statement warrants, "It retails for over a grand."

Nathan scrunches up his nose, "How much am I _paying _you?" he questions, only to get another arm-punch from Haley, "_What_? All I'm saying is: if the man's got enough dough to drop a grand of the fugly hat, I'm paying him _wa-a-ay_ too much."

"Clayton, what are you doing here?" asks an exasperated Haley.

Clay eyes everyone in the room. Suddenly the tension is so palpable it's scary. "I'm Brooke's ride." He says matter-of-factly, "She told me to pick her up at four. And there was no one at the front desk so I just walked right in. You should look into that, by the way."

Brooke walks towards him, grips her arm and pulls him towards the door, "C'mon. We're so outta here!"

"But I wanna see what happens..." whines Clay with a pout, only to be silenced by Brooke's death glare. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, whispers soothing words in her ear as they head towards his car.

Lucas watches them as they go. He's annoyed at the way this new guy is with Brooke, the way he calms her, the way his body naturally reacts to hers bothers the shit out of him and he's overcome with the need to hit the douche for being so close to her.

**-xx-**

Peyton walks into the living room and plops down on the armchair across from Lucas. "Sawyer's down for the night." She announces. Then she sighs, "Luke, what happened to us? It's been nearly ten years, and I didn't tell you one thing—it was _one thing_, Lucas. How can that possibly be what ruins us?"

Lucas shakes his head, "You still don't get it, do you? It's not just that you that you didn't tell me, it's everything that came with it. That one moment changed _everything_ for me."

'_How many moments in life can you point to and say, "That's when it all changed"?_'

"And now I just don't know what's real about us anymore. I can't be married to somebody like that."

"I thought we were trying to make things work." Peyton's voice cracks, sounding ever more grating than usual.

Lucas looks at her, "We were." He says, "But they're not. And you're holding on to this thing like our lives depend on it, but it's not working. It's _killing_ us. I am not all in this anymore." He shakes his head, "And if I'm honest, the truth is that I haven't been in this marriage for a long time. I just didn't have the resolve to tell you."

"Are you _leaving_ me?" Peyton shrieks out, her voice high enough to break glass.

Lucas' blue eyes rise to meet her green ones: "_Yes_."

**-xx-**

Brooke stands in her house's second floor deck, arms crossed over the railing. She's wearing a ratty C-o-B tank top and a pair of boy-shorts. The cold night air hits her face and she instinctively hugs herself.

Clay walks out onto the deck. He's in his white cotton boxers, and his button down shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his tanned chest. He moves to stand behind her; he doesn't touch her, but Brooke can instantly feel the heat radiating from his body.

"That was intense today." He tells her.

He took her home after they left the office, and she'd asked him to stay. He acquiesces the request immediately—not only because he usually lets her get her way, but because it is the first time she actually _asks_ him to.

This is the first time he's even seen this part of her life (or Nathan's for that matter) up close and personal. All he's ever known about the drama that came with Lucas Scott is Brooke's side of the story. And that it went down in high school and there is a book about it. (A book he's never bothered to read.)

"Yeah…" Brooke answers.

She doesn't turn to around to face him. She doesn't come into contact with him in any way. Then the wind catches her long chocolate locks of hair and it graces his chest.

Clay smirks because even a touch as light as that somehow manages to set his body on fire.

He's bedded far more than his fair share of women in his twenty-six years, but he has never wanted to touch a girl's body as much as he wants to touch Brooke's.

He inches closer to her, his hands brace on the railing around her effectively encircling her, but he still doesn't touch her. "I'm here, okay," he whispers into her ear, "I just want to make sure you're all right, babe."

His right forearm inadvertently brushes up against her tiny waist, and Brooke finally whirls around to face him. "I know you are," she answers.

He looks at her in that annoying way of his—like he really _sees_ her—and she brings a hand up to stroke his slightly scruffy cheek. Clay leans into her touch, flashes her a half-smile.

Brooke wraps her other arm around his neck. Clay reflexively grips her voluptuous hips. Brooke bites her lower lip, stands on her tiptoes, and presses her lips to his. It's quick, soft. Her lips part invitingly when she kisses him again, this time more fervently as their tongues battle for control.

Clay groans, his grasp on her waist tightening, and lifts Brooke until her body is locked unto his. Her back is pressed against the railing, the cold metal digging into her back is almost painful, but she doesn't really feel it.

As she rakes her nails through his hair, one of his hands comes up to cradle the back of her head. His expert fingers get tangled in her cascade of chocolate locks. She tastes good, like strawberries, and he wants _more_.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he also thinks it shouldn't surprise him if Brooke Davis naturally tasted sweet.)

After what feels like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes they pull back, the need for air becoming too strong. His cobalt-blue eyes burrow into her hazel ones, he takes in the lazy smile spread across her kiss-swollen lips, and he _wants _her. _Now_.

Without a thought, he instantly crashes his lips against hers forcefully—kissing her so hard that he's actually scared of bruising her. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulls his face closer to her, and jumps up to lock her slender legs tightly around his strong waist. His agile hands move down to her perfectly-shaped ass, forcing their two bodies even closer together. His hard-on is pressing into her, she grinds into him, and that's his cue—he moves toward the crystal sliding door and makes his way towards her bedroom, though at this point any smooth surface will do.

Brooke feels like her body is on fire. Clay's hand are everywhere at the same time, setting off her nerve endings like crazy. They land on her bed, and she's not entirely aware of when they even made it into her bedroom, but she doesn't care right now.

"Ugh," she moans as Clay's grasps her thighs and slides off her boy-shorts in one swift move.

His body hovers over hers, his hands making their way up under her tank-top before quickly discarding it. They sit up, she claws at his chest before aggressively pulling his button-down off his broad shoulders. Their hands clumsily fumble together as they both hastily attempt to remove his boxers.

When no more garments separate them, his smooth, hard frame presses fully against her smaller one. He kisses her again and again in a kind of exhilaration. Clay lets out a guttural groan, and Brooke responds with an erotic moan.

"I…" words escape him, her warm body rubbing up against him is too much, "want you…I need you." Clay says hoarsely, and pushes into her in one swift movement.

Brooke cries out with a mixture of pleasure and shock. Clay's movements are steady as he continues to thrust into her. Her hips gyrate against his pelvis and he moans loudly at the contact, bitting down on her shoulder.

His mouth abandons the tender skin of her shoulder blade, and he looks at her angel-like face. "Don't close your eyes." He tells her. At this, her eyelids flutter open, hazel eyes stare him down. "Let me see you… Stay with me, Brooke."

Once more, she presses her lips to his in a quick, soft kiss. When their faces part, Brooke's hazel eyes lock with Clay's cobalt-blue ones.

Brooke doesn't look away until they both reach their peaks, falling asleep with their bodies tangled together.


	4. Promises, Promises

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**Promises, Promises**

"My knees give way and he's holding me up. As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything."

—Suzanne Collins

**-xx-**

Clay wakes up completely naked, his body covered only by a crimson-red sheet. But more notably, he wakes up _alone_.

He sits up, his weight resting on his elbows, and glances around the all-too-familiar bedroom. He looks around and spots the boy-shorts he'd practically ripped off of Brooke last night along with that ratty tank-top she's so fond of sleeping in.

_Good_. It wasn't an insanely awesome wet dream. He _did_ finally get to fuck Brooke Davis.

But where the fuck is she?

This is entirely new for him. Normally he's completely unable to fall asleep after sex, leaving whatever chick he managed to bed that night in his bed and crashing elsewhere.

It's an odd feeling waking up alone like this. (Now he kind of gets why that one chick freaked out and went all mental on him that time.)

He reaches out for his boxer-briefs and slides them on, peeks into the bathroom and finds Brooke's not there either. "Fuckin'-A," he mutters as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, "Hide-and-seek first thing in the a.m. Only with Brooke Davis."

Clay finds her downstairs in the kitchen. Her back's to him as she leans over the kitchen counter. Her chin rests on one hand while the other brings a cup of coffee to her lips. She's in his button down (which is barely covering that perfectly shaped ass of hers), those cascading chocolate locks he very much enjoyed playing with last night fall lazily across back.

Clay moves to stand behind her, and presses a kiss to her neck—right above the hickey he left last night, almost as if to mark her. "Mornin', babe," he greets, one hand lands on her waist while the other steals away her coffee cup.

Glasses on slid down on the tip of her nose, Brooke narrows her eyes, "That's mine."

"After last night, there ain't much we haven't shared, princess." Clay retorts with a smirk. The comment earns him an arm-punch and a shove in the chest. "What?" he protests, still unable to keep the smirk off his lips.

Brooke shakes her head, "Don't be a dick."

"Says she who left me in bed last night." Clay shoots back. "Not original to steal moves from my own playbook, sweetheart."

A perfectly groomed eyebrow shoots up in defiance, "What? Did I hurt your feelings, lover?"

"Not at all," Clay's as smug as ever as his hands move to undo the top buttons of the button-down, "Just a little inconvenient for the morning repeat." He eyes the counter and shrugs, "But I can work with this."

Before Brooke can even think about it, Clay's strong arms have hoisted her up on the counter, and her slender legs have wrapped around his waist in response. "This is more the morning after I had in mind," he tells her, his hands already sliding off the shirt and discarding it on the floor, and holy fuck she is completely naked right now. There's the fire of defiance in her hazel eyes, he knows she likes to be in control, but there's also desire and he's fully aware of which one wins out over the other. Usually resulting in some pretty mind blowing fucking.

One thing's certain: Brooke Davis _never_ disappoints.

**-xx-**

Haley and Rachel walk into Brooke's house a little after ten. They drop their purses on a table and Haley calls out, "Tigger!" She's been worried about Brooke since yesterday's therapy fiasco and she's already filled the redhead in, but they both figured it was best to give the brunette some time to process the day's event before going in to have a conversation about it.

"Tigg!" Haley repeats when there's no answer. It's then that she hears the shower running. Of course, Rachel knows no bounds of privacy so she insists they peek their heads in.

Haley's eyes widen like saucers at the sight. "OH MY GOD!" A hand immediately flies up to shield her eyes.

The hot water has steamed up the glass shower door just enough that they can't see _everything_ (and Haley's silently thanking god for that), but the picture is clear enough: Brooke. Clay. Naked. Shower. Sex.

And Clay has Brooke pressed up against the shower's glass door, his hands gripping the brunette's hips for stability, and it _clearly_ isn't the foreplay that they're interrupting.

And _Oh My God._

"Oh, _fuckin_' hell!" Rachel exclaims in an annoyed tone. She's not surprised. In fact, she's known all along this has been coming. She knows how Brooke operates and how much Clay's been wanting it.

Brooke's head whirls around at the sound, Clay's eyes rise to spot Haley and Rachel. "HALEY!" – "RACHEL!" – "WHAT THE FUCK?" – "WHAT-THE-FUCK?"

Haley pushes Rachel back a bit and closes the door, but leaves a crack to make sure her voice carries through. "I'm-I-you…I was…'Cause you were…But you're…"

Rachel opens the door again, not at all bothered by finding them in this position. "For God's sakes, Brooke, what're you doing?"

Brooke pushes Clay off of her, "I'm running a fucking marathon!" she exclaims sarcastically, "What does it _look_ like I'm doing!"

Haley takes a deep breath, tries to take control of the situation, "Okay, guys—"

But Rachel cuts her off again, "Oh, Brooke, come off it, why didn't you tell me?"

Clay rolls his eyes, knows if he lets them keep going this is gonna last forever, "I'll be sure to send you an e-vite next time," he tells her sarcastically, "Do you _mind_? We're kind of in the middle of something right now."

"Clay, what the hell is wrong with you!" shoots back Haley in return. The glare in her eyes quite clearly reflects that she's over the initial awkwardness of the moment. Yep. Now she's at full-on anger. "And, Brooke, whatever happened to '_I'm not sleeping with Clay_', huh?" she asks, her fingers making mocking air quotes.

Brooke groans in frustration, "Jesus-fuckin'-Christ!" she exclaims, "Can you two at least get out long enough for us to get dressed, and we can let the inquisition continue then?"

Rachel slams the bathroom door closed and they can hear her and Haley stomp off towards the living room.

"Well," Clay runs a hand through his wet locks of hair, "_That_ went well."

Brooke's hand turns off the shower, and she sighs, "Fun's over, lover boy." She says, "Time to face the bombarding squad."

**-xx-**

It's a particularly weird feeling for Brooke.

Rachel's giving her a do-you-know-what-the-fuck-you-just-did look (though it's sort of directed at Clay), and Haley's giving a maternal glare far more stern than the ones she normally gives her.

Brooke feels like a little girl whose parents are about to ground her. And seeing as her parents never really gave a shit what or _who_ she did, it is particularly odd now to have her two friends taking on that role.

Her wet hair falls messily on her shoulders, her arms are crossed over her chest, and she shrugs, "So," she starts, "have at it, then."

"God, you know, I'm just trying to figure out where you're coming from," starts Haley trying to keep her tone even, "Because it doesn't feel like that long ago that you were set on being a mom and having a family—_settling down_—and it looked like Julian was the one to do all of that with. But then that ended so abruptly, and you just…slipped back into old habits, and…god, _Clay_?" the disbelief in her voice is far more than evident, "Seriously, Brooke—_Clay_? He isn't conductive any of that! He is the living, breathing opposite of that—he is the boy who is _never_ going to grow up! _Where_ is the future in that?"

"Jesus, Hales!" Brooke throws her arms in the air, exasperated, "How many times are we going to have this conversation? Family, kids—it's not in the cards for me right now! I tried it, and it didn't happen! And then I tried to make it work with Julian, but I couldn't. And I can't keep explaining that over and over…" she sighs, "And Clay and I are both consenting adults. We do what we wanna do. I know it's because you care, but you need to stop _mothering me_. I'm all grown up. I don't need a mother, I need a friend."

Haley looks down, shakes her head, "I just worry about you, Tigg." She tells her best friend, "And that's something I can't turn off. And yes, sometimes that concern turns motherly, but so what? Someone needs to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself, Hales." Brooke answers, "And I'm doing all right."

"Well, I'm not fuckin' all right, Haley," pipes in Clay, clearly upset. "Boy who's never gonna grow up. The opposite of a future. Really? Is that what you think of me?" he scoffs, "That's real fucking nice, Hales." he picks up his jacket from the chair he'd thrown it on last night and slams the door on his way out.

_Fuck this_.

"That was really unfair, Hales." It's the first thing Rachel has to say of the whole thing.

Haley runs her fingers through her hair, "Look, I don't doubt that Clay cares about you guys. Just like he cares about Jax and Nathan and Jamie and me. But I stand by what I said. You both know it's the truth. And that's part of his allure—that elusive charm of his that has a way of drawing you in. It's also why relationships with him never last."

"Haley, he's family," Rachel says, reaches for the picture frame on the coffee table. "Yeah, he's not perfect. But, really, who is?" she hands the frame over to Haley.

From the photograph, Clay stares back at her along with Jamie and Jax. All three are shirtless, flexing their arms to show their muscles, and looking tough (or at least attempting to).

A twinge of guilt hits Haley because while there are many things to say about Clay, no one can say he doesn't care. And he's always been good with Jax and Jamie.

Haley chuckles, '_Well, of course The Boy Who Never Grows-Up is great with children_', she thinks as she shakes the guilt off. "I'm not saying he's not a good friend. I'm saying he isn't the most dependable guy. And you know that, Brooke. You've seen he beds a new girl practically every weekend. Why would you ever want to join the list of notches in his bedpost?"

"It's not like that, Hales," Brooke shakes her head. "It's..."

Rachel sighs and wraps an arm around Brooke. She knows Haley means well and everything, but she's never going to _get_ the relationship they have with Clay—more specifically the relationship _Brooke _has with Clay.

"It's fine, Haley." Rachel tells her, "We'll get him later."

Because it was always Rachel, Brooke and Clay in the end.

**-xx-**

Clay walks into the Scott house and heads straight to Nathan's home gym. "Hey," he calls out to Nathan who's lifting weights. "I've got some papers for you to look over. Lawyers have already okayed everything. Just needs your signature."

Nathan wipes sweat off his brow and scrunches up his nose, "Well, hello to you, too!" he greets sarcastically.

"No time to chat. Have to get back to the office." Clay shoots back, "Trying to avoid your other half since she's being such a bitch today."

"Hey!" Nathan protests, he then slaps his friend upside the head, "That is my _wife_ you're talking about—_watch it_. And _what_ is up your ass right now?"

Clay rolls his eyes—what ever happened to bros before hoes? "Well, your _wife_ thinks I'm a useless child who's beneath Brooke. Whatever." He pulls out some papers from his messenger bag, "New endorsement papers. Under Armour's looking to branch out. And they want _you_. Here's everything you need to sign."

"Whoa, dude," Nathan grins as he eyes the papers, "This is awesome—I love Under Armour's gear. And back it up about Haley. What happened with B, man?"

Clay licks his lips, tucks his hands into his jeans' pockets, "I slept with Brooke last night…and this morning." He sighs, "Haley and Rae caught us. In the shower."

"Hold it—you _fucked_ Brooke?" Nathan questions, his brow furrowed, "Jeez, Clay, I asked you not to do _one thing_! I told you to back off of Brooke. Look, B's…things are just really fucked up right now. Luke's back in town, and the Peyton Drama is kicking, and you decide to stir this shit up _now_?"

"I didn't decide anything!" exclaims Clay, "It happened. And, _really_, I don't give a fuck what shitty drama your brother and his crazy bitch wife start off! 'Cause it ain't got nothing to with me. And it sure as hell doesn't have anything to do with what happened last night. That's between me and Brooke."

Nathan shakes his head, "I know high school ended a lifetime ago, but that shit isn't over yet, man. And Lucas…well, he's always been torn between two women—a constant indecision that has come to define all three of them. Peyton, who clings so desperately to Lucas. Brooke, who's somehow incapable to stop caring about the two people who continually hurt her the most. And Lucas, who sits passively in the middle, always letting someone or something else make the choice for him."

Clay looks away. Never has a one-night fuck brought him so much grief before. He sets the papers down, "Y'know, I'd stay and talk this shit over with you," he starts, "But according to the wife, I'm not your friend. I'm an irresponsible kid who's barely qualified to handle your career. So lets stick to the business arrangement." He tells Nathan before leaving, "Look it over and all me with whatever you decide."

**-xx-**

The store is closed for the day—inventory, which Brooke and Rachel usually turn into something fun: music and snacks and gossiping and playing with Jax.

Except today it isn't that much fun. Because neither Brooke nor Rachel are saying a word.

Rachel is sitting on the counter, clipboard in hand as she goes over the list one last time. Her other hand is rocking Jax. The toddler is sitting in his car seat, which is facing his mother. His grey-blue eyes study his mother carefully. When Rachel notices, she winks at him, "You're supposed to be napping, Rockstar." she presses a kiss to his forehead and jumps off the counter.

"Are you just _not_ going to say anything?" Brooke questions, the silence finally annoying the shit out of her.

Rachel shrugs, "Don't have to." she answers, "Did ya finish counting those? I need to check them off the list."

"Yes." Brooke raises an eyebrow skeptically, "Why don't you have to say anything?"

"Because you're predictable. Now you and Clay are gonna start fucking, and then inevitably one of you will fuck it up, and then it'll be awkward for everyone."

Brooke scoffs in offense, "I'm not a sex addict! It happened _once_—and there's not gonna be repeat performance. Also, I find it very condescending that you just assume one of us will fuck it up."

"Hey, I'm just going off of past experiences here." Rachel raises her palms in a peace declaration. "There's no judging here. But _A)_ didn't I walk into the repeat performance in the shower today, and _B)_ even if you say that one doesn't count, I give it less than a week before there's another repeat performance."

"Why are you being so calm about this?"

Rachel shrugs, "It's been a long time coming." she answers, "Clay has wanted to have sex with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. And you...well, Clay's smart, charming, handsome, has the sexy blue eyes and there's something about him that's just _bad_ for you—like your parents wouldn't approve. That's classic Brooke Davis Type."

Brooke rolls her eyes, "Well, if you're so fucking psychic, why don't you spare me the work and tell how it's gonna turn out?"

"Messy. Just like all of your relationships." Rachel places one hand on her hips, "You're gonna break him."

This, out of all of the redhead's comments, is the one that seems to cut Brooke. Her hazel eyes narrow, "How am I gonna _break him_, Rae?"

Rachel shakes her head because Brooke doesn't _see_ it. Actually, she figures Clay doesn't see it, either. The effect Brooke has on Clay. "'Cause you got too much baggage, B." she answers, "Baggage in the form of a broody blonde with a little girl."

"I'm over Lucas."

Rachel swallows the scoff of disbelief, "Then there's nothing to worry about, is it?"

"No." Brooke answers curtly, "There's not."

Because she has no baggage, and she isn't even going to sleep with Clay again so it's all a moot point.

**-xx-**

Clay walks into Brooke's house and heads upstairs. He finds her just were he did last night. Out on the deck. This time she's curled up into a chair, her sketchpad open on the table. Clay smiles at that because he knows it means she's looking to be inspired.

Brooke's like Van Gogh in that sense, looking to the starry sky with that forget-me-not brilliance of hers.

Clay grins: Only Brooke Davis could turn clothes into art.

"Hey, gorgeous," Clay greets, moves to stand in front of her, "How's it hangin'?"

Brooke meets his eyes and a smile spreads out over her face. Her dimples poke through and he has to suppress a groan. Last night (and this morning) has been playing on repeat in his head all day. He loves her smile—and the goddamn dimples—and when she looks at him like that, with her burning hazel eyes and that mischievous grin across her red lips, he gets instantly hard.

"Missed you this morning," Brooke answers, "Haley didn't mean it like that, you know. She means well."

Clay shrugs a shoulder and leans against the table in front of her, "Fuck Haley," he says offhand, though her words are still bothering him. (And he can't for the life of him figure out why he _cares_ so much.) "It's you I actually give a shit about. We all right, princess? Or have I lost your friendship forever?" He smirks in that endearing way of his, his tone joking, but Brooke knows him too well. She sees the glint of seriousness in his eyes that anybody else would be unable to notice.

Brooke smirks back at him, "Never." She assures him with an eyelash bat. She reaches out to grab something off the other chair. "You forgot something when you ran off," she tells him, places the fedora hat on her head, "Looks better on me, though."

Clay brushes a chocolate strand of hair off her forehead and tucks it behind her ear—the gesture is far more gentle than what he usually does, but he can't help himself—and smiles. "I wholeheartedly concur, sweetheart," he tells her, "You're beautiful. In fact," His hands grip her waist and pull her up to her feet, "I could fuck you right here, right now."

Brooke laughs, links her wrists around his neck, "Really?" Clay nods like an eager little kid, "But the neighbors might see…" she whispers, her breath hot against his ear. At the moment, Brooke forgets everything she'd said to Rachel that afternoon.

"Well, then," Clay whirls her around and hoists her up onto the table, "lets give 'em a good show, babe."

His lips move to her neck, make their way down to her shoulder and then back up to nibble on her earlobe. The touch prompts a husky giggle from the brunette's throat, "Aah!" she squeals as she tosses his t-shirt aside and he slides her jeans and panties off in one swift motion.

When it comes to getting their clothes off, he's faster than the Flash. He's ripped her shirt open and freed himself of his jeans and boxers, his hands now cupping her breasts. "Want me to keep the hat on?" she jokes.

This prompts him to smirk, "Oh, yeah," he tells her as he slides into her.

And at that moment, he fuckin' loves Brooke Davis.

**-xx-**

They wind up asleep on the deck's floor wrapped up in a blanket, and the morning sun wakes them up early.

"Fuck," Brooke mutters, "Too bright." And she buries her face into Clay's bare chest.

"Beautiful," Clay murmurs against Brooke's ear as he runs his fingers along her bare thigh. Her porcelain smooth skin always begs to be touched.

Brooke's eyes remain closed, though. "Hmm?" she asks lazily, her lips grazing his neck.

Clay grins and nuzzles his face in her hair, kisses the top of her head. "I really like you," He whispers, his hands traveling over every inch of her bare skin wanting to feel her.

Brooke giggles softly at the words, and her eyebrows shoot up. "You should." She tells him matter-of-factly, "I'm awesome."

"Right." Clay tells her as he runs his fingers through her hair, "Wanna get inside now?"

Brooke lifts her head to look up at him, lips pouting, she opens one eye, "Only if you carry me."

Clay shifts her off his chest and stands up, immediately picking her up in his strong arms, the blanket wrapped around her perfect body, "Think I can manage that." He says as he carries her inside.

They fall into bed and back asleep pretty easily and sleep till noon.

This time, when Clay wakes up, Brooke's still asleep right next to him.

"Wake up, Princess," Clay shakes her awake, "It's morning time. Real life's calling."

Brooke opens one eye, drapes an arm over his chest, "Don't want to. Lets stay in bed all day."

Clay grins—he knows all too well that Brooke's like a little girl whenever you try to wake her up in the morning, "C'mon. We've got work. I need to stop by my office. You need to head down to the store." he tickles her sides and that gets her out of bed.

They jump in the shower together—this time they lock the bathroom door.

Brooke walks out of her closet in a much-too-short skirt and a black-lace La Perla bra. "Hey. Which top?" she asks, dangling the top two choices for him to inspect.

"Um..." Clay pouts his lips in thought. His idea of fashion is jeans and a t-shirt, maybe a button-down if he's dressing up. "Black one." he answers, knowing it's the one that shows off the most cleavage.

Brooke tosses the other shirt back into the closet, "Good eye."

"I'm a man of fine tastes." Clay answers as he zips up his jeans, though the sight of Brooke like that nearly made him want to slide his jeans off and rip her clothes off. "By the way, I've got a two-day trip to New York tomorrow. Wanna come with? Carter would like seeing you, and I'm sure S and B miss the third musketeer."

"Can't." Brooke runs her fingers through her hair, taking a final look in the mirror, "3oh!3's coming to TRIC Wednesday, and Rae got a babysitter. I promised it'd be girl's night out."

Clay places a hand on her waist, "Too bad." he says, "You look good today."

"Thanks." Brooke grabs his chin with her thumb and forefinger, and pecks his lips, "I'll see ya later?"

"Definitely."

**-xx-**

They're seating down with their lawyers today.

Lucas came thinking it'd be a fairly amicable process. There was bad stuff, but they'd loved each other once, too. And they had a beautiful daughter to think about. Of course neither would want to make this harder on her.

Yep. Lucas was wrong.

"You do _not_ get my daughter, Peyton." Lucas tells her sternly, "I've been nothing if not a responsible father. What grounds do you even have for demanding something as ludicrous as this?"

Because Peyton Scott now wants _everything_—including full custody of Sawyer Scott.

"I am her _mother_, Lucas," Peyton answers with her best grating voice, "Being with me is what's best for her. Besides, you're _clearly_ not a stable caregiver. This is a perfect example—you've just decided to end our marriage out of the blue!"

Lucas balls up his fists so hard that his knuckles whiten. He stands up, stares down at his soon-to-be ex-wife with hatred in his blue eyes. "I don't care _what_ you say. You are _not_ taking Sawyer away from me." His tone was ice.

Lucas' lawyer intervenes then, "Mr. Scott," he starts, "Where is the child now?"

"With my brother and his wife," answers Lucas as he sits back down. "They agreed to watch her for the day."

"And what is the current custody arrangement? Are you still living together?"

Peyton scoffs, "He's moved out!"

"Don't be a lying, ungrateful bitch—I told you that you could stay in the house with Sawyer until you found a place for yourself and we could work out the custody arrangements." Lucas answers through gritted teeth. He turns to the lawyers, "I've been in my brother's guest-room for the past two nights, but I've been there when Sawyer falls asleep, and I pick her up in the morning. I've talked to her about the situation—nothing specific, just that mom and dad are separating." He cuts his eyes to Peyton, "If anything, _you_'re the unfit parent here: with no house, no job, and no means of providing for her."

"The house is yours, then, Mr. Scott?"

"It's his _mother's_!" Peyton yells out, "He's one to talk about providing, such a goddamn mamma's boy. And I'll have you know, I'm founder and part owner of Red Bedroom Records!"

Lucas pinches the bridge of his nose, "Real mature, Peyton." He shakes his head, "The house was my mother's, but she's signed it over to me. All the papers should be in order," he hands over an envelope with the documents, "As for employment, I've taken a job as the new English-Lit teacher at Tree Hill High."

"And the current custody arrangement is what exactly?"

"I figured once Peyton got a place, we could split time with Sawyer." answers Lucas, "I want to ease her into this. She's always seen us together, and I want to make the transition easy for her."

Lucas has actually put a lot of thought into things: he's got a house and a job and plan.

Tensions escalate when Peyton's lawyer asks her to expand on her roles as owner of the record company—and it turns out she has none because Haley is the one doing all the work. Furthermore Peyton is advised to move out and get her finances in order because it would look unfavorable in front of a judge if she were so dependent on Lucas as a caregiver.

Lucas' smirk oddly resembles Nathan's—he knows divorce is not really a contest, but if it were, the bitch just got _owned_!

**-xx-**

A crowd is gathered in front of the stage. 3oh!3 easily command's the crowd's attention with their intoxicating beat.

_We're gonna dance all night because we say so!_

_Na, Na, Na!_  
><em><br>I'm thinking maybe I can't have relationships_

_'Cause lately they're not making any sense_

_And, baby, you're the one thing on my mind_

_But that can change anytime_  
><em><br>'Cause there's so many fine women that my head is spinnin'_

_And I've lost all feelin'_

_Everybody's singin' like:_

_Hey, na na na!_

_Hey hey, na na na na!_

Brooke pushes her way through the crowd, two shot-glasses in hand. She spots Rachel's red hair easily. The redhead's singing along to the lyrics, arms in the air as her hips sway in perfect rhythm to the song. Brooke hands her one of the shot-glasses and slinks an arm around Rachel's shoulders.

"Bottoms up!" The pair tips their heads back, the liquor burning their throats as it makes its way down.

Since Jax was born, Rachel hardly ever got out. She was determined to be a responsible mother who took care of her kid. (Unlike her own mother who'd treated her like an unwanted burden.) But about once a month, she got a babysitter and her and Brooke indulged on a wild girl's night out.

They're the natural center of attention.

Guys pool around them automatically. Waiting for a dance, praying for a spare look their way.

Brooke was used to it, but Rachel actually enjoyed the attention.

In fact, Rachel rarely hooked up with anyone, and she _never_ took a random home. It only took a few minutes for her to amass a group of guys dancing around her.

Brooke walked over to the bar, stealing away a bottle of tequila when the bartender wasn't looking.

**-xx-**

The music from the club could be heard all the way outside, as if reverberating out of TRIC's walls driven by some mystical force. Dainty hands clutch a Cuervo bottle tightly (even though she's strictly a Patrón girl) as the petite brunette attempts to sway along to the beat.

_I ain't gonna no shit from no one_

_I ain't gonna take no lip from no one_

_You ain't gonna try to get me to hold on_

Brooke giggles—that's Clay's ringtone in her cell.

"It's golden now, why would I slow down," the lyrics spill from ruby-colored lips huskily before the crystal bottle crashes against them brusquely once more, a gulp of the golden liquid scorching down the brunette's throat.

Brooke doesn't feel it anymore, though.

She's entirely numb at this point.

Yep. It's official now: Brooke Davis is completely and utterly sloshed.

Hazel eyes lift towards the dark night sky, then she screams into the night: "I can do anything, anything, ANYTHING I WANT!"

And she _can_.

(She's Brooke Penelope Davis, after all.)

This assurance makes her giggle as she stumbles towards the brick edge. Arms crossed over the border, she looks down at Tree Hill.

Tonight, in this moment, she's standing on the edge of the world and she feels like the queen of everything, of that little corner of that small town. The streets are empty (because it's 3 a.m. and it's Tree Hill) save for a few cars illegally parked on the curb.

This is her home.

This is her life.

Brooke doesn't hear the rooftop access door open, doesn't hear it slam shut, doesn't hear the lanky blonde making his way towards her until he calls her name: "Brooke!" there's something akin to concern in his voice. "Brooke, what're you doing here?"

She turns around to face him. Shrugs. "Drinking." Simple answer to a simple question. She demonstrates the concept by bringing the bottle back to her lips and taking a big gulp.

Lucas runs an anxious hand through his blonde locks, "Well, there's a bar for that," he tells her gently, "C'mon, lets get back downstairs."

"What are _you_ doing here, Lucas?" Brooke questions back, turns her back on him and stares back down at the empty streets. She chuckles, "You here 'cause you're worried?" She laughs, "You've always wanted to be Superman, haven't you? Saving everybody…Peyton, Nathan, Haley." She purses her lips, "It's mostly Peyton, though… It's _always_ Peyton." She bursts out laughing and shakes her head, "God, she is _so_ pathetic!"

Lucas moves towards her slowly, "Look, I just wanna get you back down there, Brooke." He tells her, "Lets get off the roof, okay?"

Then her dainty hands drop the bottle, glass shattering against the grainy floor and what little's alcohol was left in it quickly pools together. She hoists herself up on the roof's brick edge. Hazel eyes gaze down once more. "I don't _need_ you right now!" she yells. "I don't need you at all!"

Ocean-blue eyes widen at the sight of his Pretty Girl teetering on the edge, "Brooke," he starts, "This is _not_ funny. Get down."

"Make me!" Brooke taunts, a sea of giggles emanating from her throat. Her arms outstretch at her sides like a little kid playing airplane. "I'M KING OF THE WORLD!" she yells at the top of her lungs, like she's in fucking _Titanic_ or something.

And Lucas sees it then.

He sees just how drunk off her ass she is that the idea of standing on the edge of a fucking roof is joke to her right now. It simultaneously worries him and pisses him off—how dare she play with her life like that?

"C'mon, Luke. I dare you! Save me—"

"—_Brooke_!"

The brunette whirls her head around, the wind blowing in her hair, and hazel eyes stare at him accusingly, "NO! You _promised_, Luke! C'MON! Come get me!"

Lucas halts, all words abandoning his brain. Promises made when he was seventeen resonating in his head.

Promises he never kept.

(Never quite knew how to keep.)

'_I wish that it was me. I know that's horrible, and I know that's selfish, but…I watched you rescue Peyton. And you told me you rescued Dan, and sometimes I wish you could rescue me_.'

'_From what_?'

'_From all of it_.'

'_Okay, then. I will. If you…promise to rescue me back_.'

'_I promise_.'

"Brooke, I'm sorry!" Lucas tells her, a mixture of pain and honesty in his voice, "I-I know I've failed you time and again, but…I'm _here_ now. Please. _Please_, come on down from there."

"NO!" Brooke yells, shakes her head petulantly, "No, you have to come get me!"

Lucas licks his lips anxiously, "Brooke, please…this isn't a game. Get down." He pleads, "Come on, Pretty Girl…"

"_Don't_ call me that!" Brooke hisses venomously, looks away from him and lifts her eyes back to the night sky, "I'M GONNA JUUUMP!" she yells and laughs.

"Brooke—"

But the brunette cuts him off, "Come get me, Luke," She dares, looks down to him and extends her hand.

Lucas grips her small hand firmly and climbs up. He moves in front of her as if to shield her from the edge. A single glance down, and he thinks '_Fuck, this is high up_.'

"Brooke," he starts again, "Brooke, come on, please, lets get down. I'm sorry I fucked everything up between us every time. But I'm here now. I'm not leaving you this time." He lets out a breath, "I _promise_."

Hazel eyes throw daggers at him, "Why should I believe you now?"

"You shouldn't." Lucas admits, "But I'm hoping you will."

And his ocean-blue eyes are still hypnotizing, and the alcohol has overcome her system enough that she either can't or doesn't want to resist him. "Okay." It comes out a raspy whisper, "Lets get down."

And Lucas jumps back onto the roof and places his strong hands on her petite waist, picking her up in his arms and setting her down.

Brooke's knees give way and Lucas sweeps in, lifting her up into his arms. It's only when he's holding her, when he has her in his embrace, that he breathes a sigh of relief. His lips brush the top of her head and he closes his eyes, holding her tighter.

"I'll take care of you." He promises.

And, at the moment, Brooke thinks that's a pretty good offer.


	5. The Persistence of Memory

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on… **

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**_The Persistence of Memory_**

"I don't think your missing pieces ever fit inside you again once they go missing."

—John Green

**-xx-**

Brooke opens her eyes and immediately closes, pressing the palm of her hand to them in an attempt to shield them from the light. Her mouth is as rough as sandpaper and there is a throbbing pain in her fever-ridden temples.

A glance at her bedside table reveals a bottle of Evian and Advil. Brooke silently thanks whatever angel placed those there and takes three pills, downs them with a large gulp of water.

But it's not until Brooke glances towards the foot of the bed that she spots him.

There, feet propped up on the bed and using his jacket as a blanket, is a sleeping Lucas Scott. "What the..."

Ocean-blue eyes blink open, "Good morning," Lucas stretches his arms over his head and yawns. "Sleep well?"

"Lucas." Brooke starts, her brain still trying to process what's happening, "What are you doing here?"

"How're you feeling?" Lucas walks towards her and sits down on the bed next to her, "Do you remember last night?" he presses the palm of his hand to her forehead to check her temperature.

"Ugh, more or less." Brooke shakes her head and pushes his hand away. "Why are you here, Lucas?"

"I told you I'd take care of you." Lucas tells her, "And I am."

Brooke rolls her eyes, "Go back to your wife and kid, Luke. You shouldn't be here."

"I'm actually in the process of divorcing Peyton. And I don't have to pick Sawyer up yet." Lucas answers as if all of this were old news, "I could make us breakfast—unless you aren't up to eating yet. I've heard milk can help, want a glass?"

Brooke blinks, "No. I don't." she's trying to figure out why he's so intent on taking care of her right now, "Did we sleep together last night?" She doesn't remember that, but then again she doesn't remember getting home, either.

"No, we didn't." Lucas answers, his tone surprisingly level, "You were feeling sick. I held your hair back and you threw up for a while, then I got you into your PJs and put you in bed." He motions towards the chair, "I slept there in case you woke up in the middle of the night, though. I was worried about you."

Brooke shakes her head—this is _not_ happening. Not now. "What am I supposed to do with any of this, Luke?"

But before Lucas can answer, they hear the front door open and someone is coming up the steps.

The bedroom opens and Rachel walks in, Jax asleep in her arms, "Hey, bitch," she starts, "I looked for you last night, did you—" but she stops dead in her tracks when she sees Lucas Scott in her best friend's bedroom.

"Hi, Rachel," Lucas stands up, "I'm gonna go. I'll, um, call you later, Brooke."

Once they hear the front door lock up, Rachel speaks up again, "Did you sleep with him?"

"I don't think so, no." Brooke answers, scooting over to make room on the bed.

Rachel jumps in, tucking Jax in between them, "Where'd you disappear to last night? I waited for you for like half an hour."

"I drank a bottle of tequila and thought it'd be fun to jump off the TRIC roof." Brooke answers remarkably matter-of-factly, then pauses. "Well, I don't think I was _really_ going to jump."

Still, the redhead's reaction completely throws her off. Because instead of laughing it off or making some joke about nobody liking a suicidal slut, Rachel punches her arm so hard she can feel the bruise begin to form almost instantly. "You _fucking_ idiot!" Rachel is whisper-yelling this because she doesn't want to wake Jax up.

"_OUCH_!" Brooke whines, presses her palm to her mouth to drown out the sound, "What the hell's wrong with you? That really hurt!"

"What the fuck is wrong with _YOU_!" Rachel hisses back, "You think getting wasted enough that jumping off a roof seems fun is okay? I count on you—_Jackson_ counts on you! There's a shitload of people who need you around, and you can't be going around doing that kind of stupid shit, you selfish asshole!"

Brooke suppresses a smile because those are actual tears pooling in Rachel Gatina's eyes. "I'm sorry. You're right." She admits, "I've no right to be so careless. Normally Clay's there to reign me in before I do anything that stupid."

"That's no excuse."

"I know." Brooke nods.

Rachel sighs, "And Lucas talked you off the ledge?"

"Pretty much. He took care of me," Brooke scrunches up her nose, "I guess."

Rachel wants to bite her tongue and not say it because she has been trying to work on the whole saying-everything-you-think-without-a-filter thing, but the words slip her lips before she can stop herself. "I told you: _baggage_."

"Seriously, Rae." Brooke shakes her head and cuddles up next to Jax. "Now is _so_ not the time to gloat."

**-xx-**

Inside the recording booth, Chris Keller and Haley stand in front of their respective microphones, laying down the lyrics for their next hit single.

"_How I need to hear you. Hear you so softly. Hear you say anything_." Chris tosses another music sheet as he finishes his verse—he's been making a mess in the booth for the past hour and a half.

Haley glares at him, one hand on her waist, "_Every single tear you've shed, well it kills me_."

"_Oh, she'll never see_."

Their voices meld together flawlessly at the chorus, "_This is life without you. Learning how to miss you: I guess I need to know how it feels like. This is life without you. I don't know who to turn to, and everything I know says goodbye. So goodbye."_

"_This is life without_—"

"—Chris!" the voice booms from the speakers throughout the recording booth, cutting off the song. "What're you doing?"

Chris let out that nervous chuckle—one that experience has taught Haley means he's done something he's not supposed to do. "Uh, hey, Jay...long time, man."

Haley squints, trying to make sure her eyes don't deceive her, "Jake Jaglieski?"

Jake presses the talk-back button again, "Hi, Haley." He greets, "Y'know that's my singer you're recording with, right?"

**-xx-**

"You are such an idiot!" scolds Jake while he slaps Chris upside the head. "We're supposed to be halfway done with the new song, and after a week of looking for you, where do I find you? In Tree Hill!"

Chris Keller winces, runs a hand over the spot where he'd just gotten smacked, "Ow!—look, I told ya I was bored with Emblem. They're totally stopping my musical flow, dude. And the Keller needs space to grow as an artist."

"Wait, you work for Emblem now?" Haley asks, eyeing Jake.

"I'm freelancing as a Producer there. It was supposed to be temporary, but nobody else wanted to work with numbnuts here." Jake points a thumb at Chris.

Chris scoffs, "Hey! I resent that—Chris Keller will not apologize for being awesome." he crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant little boy.

Haley rolls her eyes in disgust, points hand in Chris' direction as if to say 'talk to the hand'. "Jake, c'mon, we can talk over the business part later. You're here! I haven't seen you in, what, eight years now? How've you been? Where's Jenny?"

"I've been doing fine. Living in LA now." Jake answers, remembering that this isn't just business—these people used to be his friends once. "Jenn's doing great. She's staying with Nicki till the end of July, though."

This causes Haley to furrow her brow, "Wait, Crazy Bitch Nicki?" she asks, using the nickname Brooke and Peyton had once bestowed on the woman.

Chris Keller arches an eyebrow in interest, "No, PTA Mom Nicki," he corrects, "Which one's Crazy Bitch? Now _she_ sounds like fun."

Jake merely slaps Chris' head again, "They're the same." He tells Haley, "She's not Crazy Bitch Nicki anymore. She's got a steady job now—business owner, actually—and we share custody of Jenny. I guess we've all grown up a lot."

"Yeah, I guess we have..."

Chris raises his hand, "I haven't."

Jake glares at his friend—and he wonders how, with of all the people in LA, he ended up with this dickhead as a best friend. "The label's talking about breach of contract, Chris. It's _serious_." He says, "And now you've gone and dragged Haley into it!"

Chris Keller smirks in that conceited way of his. "Dude, who am I?" he asks, "Who am I? I'm Chris Keller. And, as usual, I have thought this plan through. I signed with Emblem less than a year ago. I made the deal with Peyton and Red Bedroom _before_ that. Grandfather Clause: any agreement made before the current arrangement is still considered legally binding and must therefore be honored. **BAM!** Five it!" he raises his hand waiting for a high-five, but neither Jake nor Haley slap it.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose, "Okay. That gets you out of deep shit with Emblem. It's murky, but it'll hold." He admits, "You're still a douchebag, though. Why didn't you run any of this by me?"

"An underhanded douchebag," Haley clarifies, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Chris Keller shrugs, "I was thinking you'd say no." he says plainly, "And I was _right_."

Jake suppresses the urge to hit him and turns to Haley, "You're running this label, right, Haley?" The copper-haired mother nods, "Well, if we're gonna play this out, Chris is recording this single with RBR. Which is actually good news for me because it means that I can wash my hands of your musical career, Chris. My contract with Emblem's done, and I'm not renewing it."

Chris and Jake argue back and forth over this for a while, and it's clear to Haley that even though Jake has a very low tolerance for Chris' BS, they're really good friends.

It's then that an idea hits Haley. Because she can't handle Chris Keller that easily and Jake can. "Jake, how would you like to work with Red Bedroom producing the EP? It can be a freelance thing until we're through, and then you can take Chris back to LA with you."

This suggestion makes Chris Keller jump up and down excitedly, "I like that idea!" he exclaims, "It's like we share one brain, Hales—up top!" Once more he's left hanging, but he doesn't particularly care. The idea of staying in town to pop out a killer single with his favorite duet partner, and kicking it with his best bud is appealing enough to keep him entertained.

Rachel Gatina walks into TRIC, holding Jax's hand—he's taken to walking more and more now. "We're heading to the ice-cream place after, Rockstar," she tells her son, "But we're gonna say hi to Auntie Haley first."

Jax merely laughs—he's yet to master the smirk—at his mother's antics.

"Hales," calls out Rachel as she walks into the studio, "Come out, come out wherever you are! I know you're avoiding Casa de Brooke since the whole Clay thing, but—" She cuts herself off when she spots the threesome. "What are we interrupting?" she asks as she picks Jax up.

"Rachel, hi," Haley greets, somewhat taken aback by the redhead's arrival, "Uh, this is Jake Jaglieski. And you've already had the displeasure of meeting Chris. What're you doing here?"

Rachel eyes Jake Jaglieski up and down—he's hot. "Checking up on you since you've been avoiding us like the plague." She answers, extends a hand out for Jake to shake, "And hello, Jake Jaglieski. Never seen you around before. Are you the same Jake from high school?"

"Single dad. Yes. That'd be me." Jake nods with a grin.

"Fitting then. Single mom." Rachel bounces Jax against her hip, "Say hey, Rockstar."

Jax giggles, "Hi!"

Haley's Spidey-Senses are a-tingling because while she's always seen Rachel flirt with random guys before, it hasn't been quite like this. Most especially with the guy seeing Jax, which none of Rachel's hook-ups ever do.

"Cute kid." Jake answers. "Even cuter mom."

Rachel arches a perfectly groomed eyebrow, "Smooth." She says, "How about I let you impress me further on a date?"

"You read my mind. I was just thinking of a way to work that in. Dinner tomorrow night?"

"Done."

Jake nods, "Want me to pick you up at your place or do you want to meet somewhere?"

"How about right here, eight o'clock?" Rachel suggests, "I'll be the hot redhead sitting by the bar."

"And I'll be the lucky, lucky guy picking you up." Jake tells her still unable to keep the grin off his face. He turns to Haley, "Uh, I gotta go, Hales. But I'll think about the offer and let you know, all right?"

Haley nods, "Sure. Chris has my number." And with that Jake's gone.

"Oh my God, he is hot!" Rachel exclaims, checking him out as he goes, "Nice ass, too."

Chris Keller scoffs, "That's my boy there, Red. Ya better treat him right. Plenty of girls have left him hangin' before." He warns, "Hales—due to recent events—I assume our work for the day's done. Same time tomorrow?" He doesn't wait for a response, "See ya!"

Once he's out the door, Haley's eyes focus of Rachel, "Dude," she snorts, "you have a date. With Jake Jaglieski."

Rachel bursts out laughing, "I know!" And it feels pretty fucking surreal to date a guy from Tree Hill High almost eight years later.

**-xx-**

Clay sits in the back of the stretch limo with Carter Baizen. "You should just move to New York, man." Carter tells him, sipping a glass of scotch.

Clay grins at the offer, "Well, I appreciate the invite, Baze," he says, "But work's in Tree Hill—that's were my best client lives."

Carter scoffs at this, "Please." He rolls his eyes, "We both know _business_ has nothing to do with it. Bring Brooke with you." He stirs his glass of scotch before taking a decisive sip, "We'll run this town."

This elicits a chuckle from Clay. He has no doubt that Brooke and New York would be a great combination—if nothing else, it'd be awesomely entertaining.

"It's not about B.," Clay answers, "I told ya—it's work."

Carter smirks and shakes his head, "Right. Hold on." He pulls his cell phone from his coat's pocket and starts a text as he downs the last of his glass of scotch, "Okay, I texted Ezra and told him that BS you fed me—even by his calculations, you're full of shit."

"Fucker," Clay snatches the phone out of his friend's hands and tosses it under the seat. "Keep Ez out of my shit. The one benefit of him being stuck in Rosewood is that he's not always standing on my shoulder like Jiminy-fuckin'-Cricket. I don't need another conscience, thank you very much."

The limousine's partition slid down, "Mr. Baizen, we've arrived."

"Thanks, Raoul." Carter smirks, "Off you go. Kiss B. hello for me, will you? Then again you don't really need a reason to wanna kiss B., do you?"

Clay grabs his suitcase and climbs out of the limo, he leans in the window, "Still a dick, Baze," he says, "See you next time I'm in the city."

"Goodbye, Evans."

Clay slips down his Wayfarers and takes a final look at the city. He does love New York—Carter's offers to stay in town and party are always tempting.

But Clayton Evans can't wait to get back to Tree Hill.

**-xx-**

Business has been going slow today. Save for an old lady who'd walked in twenty minutes ago, there hasn't been a rush of customers.

Brooke likes it like this sometimes. The quiet gives her times to think. Not that lately she's enjoyed being alone with her thoughts, but still.

When the bell rings announcing another customer, Brooke looks up and knows her quiet day is pretty much over.

Lucas Scott is there, and Sawyer Scott's in his arms. "Hey," he sits Sawyer down on the counter and smiles at Brooke, "I wasn't sure you'd be working today. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Bwooke!" Sawyer greets with a smile.

"Hey, S. Scott," Brooke hugs the little girl, "You look very pretty today." She adds with a wink. "Um, there're some of Jax's toys in the back. Wanna go play?" The mere mention of toys is enough to capture Sawyer's attention and Brooke sets her down on Jax's play mat.

Brooke sighs, "Listen, Luke, thank you for last night, really," she's whispering because she doesn't want either Sawyer or the customer to hear her, "But it changes nothing. You've got whatever it is you've got going on with Peyton, and you have your kid. And I have Cl—a life," she catches herself and clears her throat, "I've got my own life. I don't need you to take care of me."

"Brooke, I—" Sawyer's calling for her dadda, and Lucas goes to the back to get her.

Brooke's charging up the old lady's purchase and Lucas stands beside her, bounces Sawyer against his hip.

"Forgive the intrusion," the old lady says as she gathers up her bags, "But you three are a beautiful family,"

Brooke's hazel eyes widen, "Oh, we're—"

"Thank you," Lucas cuts her off with a smile, "That's very kind of you to say."

"Why'd you do that?" Brooke whispers once the old lady's left the store.

"To show you," Lucas answers, "We can be together, Brooke. Look, I know it's long road to get there, but we can make it work." He pauses, licks his lips, "Once upon a time, we were good together. And we can be good again. Think about it."

And with that, Lucas is gone.

**-xx-**

It has been a long fucking day and Brooke wants nothing more than to get out of her clothes and fall into her big comfy bed to forget this day (and maybe yesterday, too, while we're at it) ever happened. Maybe watch a movie, too.

But she's barely kicked off her shoes when she sees Clayton Evans perched on her living room couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. His duffel bag thrown on an armchair. "Just couldn't stay away, could you?" Clay says, flashes her his best lopsided grin.

Despite herself, Brooke smiles, "It's my house, you idiot. If anything, _you_ can't stay from me."

Clay shrugs, "Same difference." his strong hands grip her petite waist, and he stands dangerously close to her.

"I'm not in the mood for sex tonight, Clay." Brooke sighs, "I'm tired."

"That's fine," Clay pecks her lips, "I like it better when there's sex, but I can adjust. What're we doing tonight?"

Brooke rolls her eyes, "_We_ are not doing anything. I'm gonna watch a movie, and then I'm gonna crash. _You_'re going home."

"C'mon! I just got back to town," Clay pouts, his cobalt-blue eyes piercing her hazel ones, "Don't make me go back to an empty house, Dimples."

Brooke groans, "Promise to behave yourself?"

"Always."

"We're watching _Casablanca_, by the way." Brooke adds as an afterthought as she heads upstairs to change.

Clay furrows his brow, "Ugh, I don't like that movie."

This surprises Brooke. "Okay, first time we went out, you quoted that movie to me. It's one of my favorites. All this time, I've been thinking you like it." she feels strangely deceived right now.

"And I do—it's a classic, and I respect classics." Clay clarifies, "It's just...I don't know, call me a romantic, but I don't like that Ingrid Bergman ended up with the wrong guy."

Brooke kinks her eyebrow, "But that's the point—sacrifice. Doing the right thing."

Clay snorts, "Fuck sacrifice. Love is passionate and dangerous and wild—it's _supposed_ to be that way. And when it's right it's awesome." he says, "You shouldn't give it up like that."

Brooke blinks, taken aback by the explanation. "Um...we're still watching it." she mumbles as she disappears upstairs.

A few minutes later she comes down in a pair of short shorts and an old top. She can feel Clay eyeing her up and down, "Sorry. There'll be no slutty lingerie tonight, lover. I told you I'm not in the mood."

Clay chuckles, "You don't need to repeat it—no means no. I'm not stupid." he says, "But for the record: I'm not a big fan of too much laciness. I think your best lingerie is just you, naked. I mean, your clothes—your designs—they're great. But the best thing you ever wear are those dark, chocolate locks of yours flowing free and your soft alabaster skin. No design ever fits you better. But that's 'cause you don't need anything else. You're beautiful."

Brooke clears her throat and hits play. A few minutes into the movie, Brooke tuck her legs under herself and leans her head on Clay's broad shoulder. Clay wraps an arm around her, his fingers grazing her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Before they know it, the credits are rolling.

"You've been weird all night," Clay says while he turns off the DVD player, "Are you all right?"

Brooke shrugs a shoulder, "I got a couple of other things going on."

Clay locks eyes with her, doesn't break eye-contact. "I'm listening."

"That's okay." Brooke shakes her head, "What, no smartass reply? You got a shoulder for me to lean on? Or abs or some other body part?"

"I really am listening." Clay answers simply.

Brooke sighs, "I feel like my life's a mess right now. With Lucas and Peyton back, there's just...a lot bad water under that bridge. When they left, I thought things kind of resolved themselves. But they didn't. Everything hit pause, and now that they're back the shit hath hitteth the faneth." she lets out a wry chuckle, "Aren't you glad you asked?"

"Yeah. I am." Clay leans his forehead against hers, "Here's lookin' at you, kid." he says before pressing his lips to hers. "C'mon, lets get to bed. I'm tired, and you look beat, too. Don't worry. I remember, no sex."

And they don't fuck that night. Brooke crawls under the covers, and Clay waits until she's out to fall asleep. All in all, he's glad to be home.

**-xx-**

Rachel Gatina sits at a stool, baby carrier placed atop the bar. The single mother holds the iPhone pinched between her cheek and shoulder, "You give it all, but I want more. And I'm waiting for you." She sings as she rocks her son in his carrier, "With or without you. With or without you. I can't live with or without you."

_Hi! You've reached Brooke—And the amazing Clay!—Shut up, jerk-off! Anyway, leave a message at the beep—Or not 'cuz only douches leave messages!—Clay, cut it out!—**BEEP!**_

Voicemail. God, Rachel hates that crap.

"B., you really need to cut that shitty message. Where are you? I've been calling you and I—never mind." Rachel hits the end button on her cell, and grins at the sight of Clayton Evans walking into TRIC. "Clay! Just who I was looking for!"

"Aw!" Clay places a hand on his chest as if he's deeply honored, "Really? You flatter me, Red."

"Yeah, well, not _really_ you," Rachel tells him, "But you'll do." She slides Jackson's baby bag off her shoulder and slides it onto Clay's. "I'm assuming you're crashing at Brooke's—and if you weren't, you are now." The redhead picks up the blonde boy out of his carrier and kisses the side of his head before placing him in Clay's hands. "Auntie B. and Clay are gonna have a sleepover with you tonight, Rockstar. How 'bout that?" she cuts her eyes back to Clay, "You're babysitting Jackson tonight."

Clay bounces Jackson, causing the toddler to giggle, "Right on," he says easily, "We're gonna party, aren't we, Little Man?"

Rachel gives him a glare that could kill, "_No_ using my son to pick up randoms."

"_Fine_." Clay rolls his eyes—he doesn't need props to pick up women, but Jax and Jamie always facilitate the process. "And why am I on Jax Patrol anyways? I don't mind, but I thought you only had one wild night a month."

"It's not a wild night out." Rachel answers curtly, "It's a date."

Clay shakes his head and screeches as if he were rewinding a tape, "Back it up. _You_, my Little Red Riding Hood Gatina, are going out on an honest to God _date_?"

"Don't look so surprised. Jackson wasn't born from an immaculate conception. I've been on dates before."

"Not since _I've_ known you." Clay wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, "Who's the lucky guy?"

Just then, Jake Jaglieski walks into TRIC. His black cashmere sweater is a little warm for the weather, but it looks damn good on him. He approaches Rachel confidently, places a hand on the small of her back, "Hey," he kisses her cheek with the greeting, "You ready to go?"

"Yes, I am." Rachel tells him, motions towards Clay, "Jake, this is Clayton Evans. The babysitter."

Clay rolls his eyes, "The friend, actually." He corrects, shaking Jake's hand, "And its just Clay. Nice to meet you, Jake."

"Yeah," Jake says, "Nice to meet you, too." He smiles at Jackson and high-fives the toddler, "Hey, Jax."

Rachel grabs her purse, "I'll pick him up early tomorrow."

The redhead links arms with Jake, but Clay grabs her, "Need your car keys." He shrugs, "Can't really fit a car seat on the back of a Harley, Red. Besides," he just his chin out towards Jake, "I'm sure Jake here is a gentleman. He'll take you home, walk you to the door—whole nine, right, man?"

Jake shakes his head laughing, "I'd love to drive you home, Rachel. It's no problem at all." He tells her, "In fact, I'm gonna go bring my car around. Meet you out front?"

Rachel nods and then turns to Clay, "You are such a pain." She hands over the keys to her Grand Cherokee, "No randoms in my car, either."

"Cross my heart," Clay tells her, drawing a cross over his heart with index finger. "Have fun tonight, Rach."

Normally the redhead would hit him, but he's got her baby boy in his arms so she decides to show restraint. Instead, she sighs, "I'm rooting for you, Sunshine."

Clay crinkles his nose, "What's that mean?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough." Rachel answers vaguely and dismissively, "Take care of my kid." And there is no disguising the threat in the statement.

Clay knows full well the redhead hurricane would kill him in a heartbeat if anything happened to Jax while he was watching him.

**-xx-**

Clay lets himself into Brooke's house with the spare key. It's only a little after eight, but Jax always falls asleep pretty easy.

He changes Jax into his favorite jammies (the Superman ones), and tucks him into his car-bed. The car-bed had been a gift for when they were transitioning Jax out of the crib. The spare room at Brooke's house had served as Jax's bedroom once upon a time, and even after Rachel and the kid had moved out, Brooke kept it the same.

"You're all set, bud," Clay declares, "Ready to go beddie-bye?"

"'tory!" Jax demands.

Clay purses his lips, "Story, huh?" he says as if he were pondering it, "I'll trade you a goodnight kiss for a bedtime story. How 'bout that?"

Jax kisses his cheek and crosses his arms over his chest, as if demanding his story. Clay pulls a chair over closer to the bed. "This was one of my favorites when I was kid."

_Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night_

_Sailed off in a wooden shoe—  
><em>

_Sailed on a river of crystal light,  
><em>

_Into a sea of dew.  
><em>

_"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"  
><em>

_The old moon asked the three.  
><em>

_"We have come to fish for the herring fish  
><em>

_That live in this beautiful sea;  
><em>

_Nets of silver and gold have we!"  
><em>

_Said Wynken,  
><em>

_Blynken,  
><em>

_And Nod._

For all of Clay's good and bad traits, he is one hell of a storyteller. Jax listens attentively, hanging on to every word. His big brown eyes blink repeatedly as if trying to fight off sleep just a little longer.

Brooke walks into her house and hears a voice coming from the spare room. Normally this would be cause for worry, but either Clay or Rachel are usually around the house without an invitation so she thinks nothing more of it. She tosses her keys in the bowl by the door and kicks of her black heels.

But what she finds in her spare room quite surprises her. Clayton Evans sits on a rocking chair by the bed intently reading from a big, blue storybook. In the bed, Jax is already all tucked in and drowsing off to sleep.

_'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed _

_As if it could not be, _

_And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed _

_Of sailing that beautiful sea— _

_But I shall name you the fishermen three: _

_Wynken, _

_Blynken, _

_And Nod._

This is a side of Clay that Brooke has never seen before.

And she actually quite likes it, seeing him be serious for a change.

**-xx-**

_"Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, _

_And Nod is a little head, _

_And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies _

_Is a wee one's trundle-bed. _

_So shut your eyes while mother sings _

_Of wonderful sights that be, _

_And you shall see the beautiful things _

_As you rock in the misty sea, _

_Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:  
><em>

_Wynken,  
><em>

_Blynken,  
><em>

_And Nod."_

Lucas closes the storybook and smiles when he sees that Sawyer's asleep. "'Night, Angel Face," he leans forward and presses a kiss to Sawyer's forehead. "Sleep tight."

Peyton is sitting at the table in the kitchen outside of Lucas' old bedroom (now Sawyer's). "Kid finally down for the night?"

"Out like a light." Lucas takes the sit across from hers, "Apartment's good?"

Peyton shrugs a shoulder, "It'll do for now," she answers, "Something funny happened today. Sawyer said Brooke. Have you seen her lately?"

"Yes." Lucas admits, "I went by the store yesterday, and I had Sawyer with me."

Peyton bites her lip, measures her words carefully, "Is that what this whole thing is about? You choose the wrong girl, and now you want Brooke back to see what the other side of the coin would've been like?"

"You remember when I asked you to marry me? I told you to come to the airport, and it was this big epic moment. I was going through an emotional crisis. Lindsay had left me at the altar, and _everyone_ kept saying it was you and me—destiny. Brooke was there for me through all of that. And I was with her when she had to let Angie go. I'm done listening to other people's ideas of my destiny." Lucas stands up, "And it's getting late now, I think you should go."

**-xx-**

Jake and Rachel sit in a cozy booth at the crowded restaurant—Café Luna was always full. Jake hadn't been sure where to take Rachel on a first date (it'd been a while since he'd been on one of those), but he figures it's hard to go wrong at a cheerful, artfully-decorated restaurant.

"So Jax is already a year old, huh?" Jake asks before taking a bite of his pasta.

Rachel nods, "Yes, fourteen months actually. And it's all going by so fast already that I'm starting to freak out here. Next thing I know he's going to be going to pre-school."

"Ugh, I remember dropping Jenny off at her first day. She was all calm and cool about it," Jake says, "But Nicki and I were just blubbering messes."

Rachel scrunches up her nose, "Okay, I gotta ask—I've heard the stories. How do you go from taking Jenny away from Nicki to crying together on her first day of school?"

"It's...a complicated and long process. We started off fighting over custody, and that lasted a while. I guess we both just wanted to prove that the other one was inept to take care of Jenn. But ultimately what's best for Jenny is two parents who're capable of taking care of her. Once we realized that, it was easier." Jake explains.

Rachel bites the insides of her cheek—she nods or half-smiles or something to show she's paying attention. "I don't know, I guess...I don't ever see myself doing that."

"So, uh, Jax's dad...you guys don't get along?"

"No. We don't talk at all, actually. I...took off before Jax was born." Rachel's eyes dart towards her hands, "He's not a bad guy. He's actually surprisingly kind. But his life, it wasn't what I wanted for Jackson. And I knew that if I told him that, he'd get me to stay. He had a way of talking me into things." She pauses and licks her lips, "So I just walked away. I wanted to go somewhere I felt safe. And I ended up in Tree Hill."

Jake nods, "Hey, to this day, when I think of home, I think of Tree Hill. It's got a way of drawing you in, this town." He says, "So, Jax doesn't really have any contact with his dad, then?"

"The only thing Jax and his father share is the same first name—I was in labor for twelve hours, Brooke was there, and I hadn't really thought what to name him. I hadn't even wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl. And then the nurse handed him to me all bundled up in a little blue blanket. Head full of blonde hair—he looked just like his father, except for the eyes. He has my eyes. And then I named him Jackson because I couldn't look at him without seeing his father. But you know what's really ironic; Brooke and Clay nicknaming him Jax. Which is also what his dad's called." Rachel shakes her head and chuckles wryly, "I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. I mean, I haven't even told Brooke..."

"'Cause you know I'm listening." Jake answers with a kind smile, "And I'm not judging."

"No, I guess you're not."

"Look, other people mean well—Peyton, Brooke, Nathan, Haley, Lucas—they were all great when I was going through the worst of it with the custody thing. But they don't get it, not really. When it comes to protecting your kid..." Jake sighs, "we do what we have to do, Rachel."

Rachel smiles at that—thinks maybe that asking Jake Jaglieski to go on this date was actually one of her finest ideas.

**-xx-**

Clay runs a hand through Jax's golden locks and flips off the light, putting the storybook back onto the bookshelf. "I know I'm not much in the story-telling department, Little Man. Sorry. Rae's good, though." he flips on the nightlight just in case Jax wakes up in the middle of the night.

He carefully closes the bedroom door and turns to find Brooke watching him from the kitchen island. "Clayton Evans," she grins, "Careful, you might just pass for a grown-up, you know."

_Pssh_! Clay scoffs, "Never!" he declares, "Peter Pan doesn't grown up, remember, Tink?"

"Seriously," Brooke tells him, "You were really good in there. And I liked the story you read him—it's a poem, right?"

Clay nods, "Yeah. My mom used to read it to me." he shrugs, "It's not big deal, B. Kids like me, and Jax is a cool little dude. No sweat."

"Why is it that when you're being an asshole you embrace it proudly, but when I actually pay you a complement you're desperate to shrug it off and act like it never happened?"

Clay moves closer to her, looks her square in the eye, "Because I _am_ a self-serving asshole. I drink too much and often when it's inappropriate. I indulge every whim, big or small, and ultimately ignore the consequences of my actions. Make no mistake, when Haley told you that I'd never grow up, she was_ right_."

Before, Brooke might've believed him. But she knows him too well now. "And I'm not buying the dickhead-act. Know you too well for it to work on me anymore."

Clay flashes her his best lopsided grin, "All right, I'm out of snappy comebacks, can we get naked now?" he asks endearingly.

"You're incorrigible." Brooke rolls her eyes and slaps his chest, "Just shut up and kiss me already."

Clay shrugs, "Gladly." his strong arms circle her waist and his warm lips crash against her. Right now, he's seriously worried that her body is becoming an addiction.

**-xx-**

_Purple. Blue. White. Red. Yellow. _

_A rain of colorful confetti falls down from the gym's roof, showering the celebrating crowd. Everyone from players to fans are quickly covered by the small pieces of paper. The Tree Hill Ravens have just won the State Championship. Clad in her tight cheerleading uniform, Brooke Davis makes her way through the crowd. The petite brunette doles out many hugs and shrieks, but it's a certain broody blonde that's pulling her in like a magnet. _

_"Luke!" her raspy voice calls out over the victory cheers._

_Lucas Scott spots her immediately, "Oh my god!" his strong arms pull her small frame against his larger one in a tight hug, "Oh, this is amazing!"_

_"This is a dream come true." the brunette's famous dimples poke out, "So who do you want standing next to you?" The brooder's eyes spot Peyton Sawyer across from them—the girl who is supposed to be his destiny. "Go. It's okay. Go!" Brooke's voice is earnest because if you are to set free the things (and people) you love, then that is what she will do._

_Lucas steals a final glance at Peyton, but then focuses his blue eyes on the brunette standing in front of him, "Brooke, it's you!" he assures her with resolve, no trace of doubt in his voice._

_**"**What?" confusion hits Brooke—this isn't how it's supposed to happen. This isn't what he's supposed to say._

_"When all my dreams come true, the one I want next to me: It's you. It's you, Brooke." Lucas assures her and then he leans down, covering her lips with his own. "It's _always_ been you."_

_It's everything Brooke's wanted to hear from him, "I love you, L—"_

"—Lucas!" Brooke jumps up in bed, clearly waking up startled from the dream. Sweat dampens her skin as she breathes heavily, and looks around. She is in her bedroom, in her bed. She glances to her left and sees Clay lying next to her, still peacefully asleep.

The red, blinking light of the bedside alarm clock reveals that it's 5:14 a.m.

"What the hell is happening to me?" the brunette wonders out loud.

Brooke turns, rests her weight on her elbow and sets her chin atop her hand. Soft fingers trace the contours of Clay's face, as if trying to draw his features.

This isn't what she'd been expecting—though it wasn't like she'd started this whole thing with a clear plan in mind. This had just _happened_.

Brooke blinks, "I don't want to break you." She admits in a whisper.

**AN: Now is the time were I need _YOUR_ input. I've got a few ideas of where I wanna take this story. But I'd like to know what you guys wanna see. Let me know.**


	6. Why Can't This Be Love?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**AN: It seems most of you guys are as torn as me about who should be endgame, though all seem to agree Peyton should suffer, and Lucas needs to redeem himself further. Glad to know there are some strong Clay/Brooke shippers out there. Tell me whatcha think, dudes.**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**_Why Can't This Be Love?_**

"I can't go back to yesterday—because I was a different person then."

—Lewis Carroll

**-xx-**

Clayton Evans stands on the porch of the James-Scott house and knocks on the front door. Haley opens up, dressed to work, purse slung on her shoulder, "Clay?" the copper-haired mother questions surprised, "You're knocking." She states matter-of-factly, "What's up with that? You never knock."

"Just tryin' to keep it professional, Haley."

Haley rolls her eyes. She's been meaning to apologize to Clay for a while now, but isn't quite sure how to go about it. She was overly harsh, true. But she was (and still _is_) worried about what's going on between Brooke and Clay. "Look, Clay, I'm sorry. It was the heat of the moment, and I said some things that came out wrong." She sighs, "There is a very select group of people that I hold dear and near to my heart, people that I instinctively protect. Nathan calls it my mother-lion instinct. Brooke's pretty high on that list."

"I'd never hurt Brooke. I figured you knew that."

Haley nods, "I know that. Just like I know you're not the opposite of a future. And I'm not saying you don't love Brooke, 'cause I know you do. But I still worry. Also, on that list of people that I very much care about are _you_. What I'm saying is...I'd never want to see you get hurt, either."

At this, Clay cracks a grin, "Am I pretty high on the list, too?"

"Yes. Top 10, definitely." Haley rolls her eyes at his question, and a wave of relief hits her—they're good again. "I'm late. I've got a meeting with a rep from Sire Records. Nate's in there, backyard. Go right in." Haley's halfway towards her car, keys in her hands, when she pauses and turns to face Clay, "And Evans," she calls out, "You don't have to knock—you're family."

The words drag an automatic, earnest smile out of Clay, "Thanks, Hales,"

Clay walks into the expansive backyard and easily spots Nathan. The raven-haired Scott is lounging in a floatable pool chair, dark Ray-Bans cover his eyes and he has a bottle of Heineken in his hand. "Workin' hard?" Clay asks, hands tucked in his jeans' pockets.

"Off season." Nathan answers, "Been hitting the gym like crazy. Figured I earned a break."

Clay shrugs, "Fair enough," he offers, "You beckoned me over."

"I signed the contracts for the Under Armour deal. Wifey signed off on it, too—speaking of, did you and Haley make up already?"

"Yes." Clay affirms, "Wifey and I are all good now."

Nathan grins, "Good." He nods, "C'mon, dude, grab a beer. I think there's some new board shorts in the linen closet. Jamie's at a play-date with Chuck, and Hales is at a meeting—it'll be a guy's afternoon."

"Fine." Clay consents, "But we gotta keep it short. I'm meeting B. for coffee later."

**-xx-**

Clay now floats on a pool chair next to Nathan. They've officially been doing nothing for an hour and a half now. This is the life.

Nathan sighs, "You ever gonna tell me what the deal is with you and B.?" he questions, "So far, I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt for the past few days—it's the only reason I haven't kicked your ass yet."

"You threatening me, dude?"

"Just sayin', I know how you roll, man." Nathan says, "Women are practically disposable to you."

"You think you know me so fuckin' well," Clay rolls his eyes, takes a pull from his beer bottle.

Nathan knows there's far too much about Clay he _doesn_'t know—but that's because Clay never tells him shit. He knows what Clay's many one-night stands see: the guy who's charming, devilishly handsome—the type of guy every girl thinks they can tame. He knows who Clay likes to be (or at least _pretend_ to be): a guy that usually makes the wrong decisions, and is often known as a jackass. The ultimate heartbreaker—the kind of guy that all the girls fall in love with.

"All right, smartass," Nathan says, "You've been my agent and pretty much my best friend for over a year now. Tell me something then. I've fucking earned it, yeah? I mean, I trust you with my career—with my family. Shit, I'm trusting you with _Brooke_. So, tell me something."

Clay grins his best lopsided grin because Nathan makes a valid point—for the past year, Nate, Haley and Jamie been more than just work, they've been _family_. He figures maybe it's not so bad if Nate knows something about him.

"Fair enough. My mother's maiden name is Hastings. Um, I graduated top of my class from Dartmouth. And I was on the lacrosse team, I was good. I have four sisters—three older, one younger. They're a huge pain in the ass, but I love them anyways. I like coffee ice-cream, and it's _gotta_ be Häagen-Daz. Favorite drink's Scotch, single-malt. My favorite book's _Peter Pan_; _The Godfather_'s a close second, though. My favorite color is blue—it looks good on me, and I don't feel douchey at all admitting that. I fixed up my Harley from scratch, and it's my baby. And—as my best friend—that's all you've earned for now."

Nathan furrows his brow, "You have _four_ sisters?" he asks surprised.

Clay smirks, "How do you think I have the patience to handle B. and Rae?"

"Touché." Nathan clinks his bottle with Clay's and they both take a sip. And though it's not all exactly personal, Nathan thinks it'll do for now. Because there's one thing he knows without Clay saying it: Clayton Evans would never hurt Brooke Davis.

**-xx-**

Brooke sits in her platform bed, a pint of ice-cream in her hand and a spoon in her mouth, "Immo mow wha bo boo." She mutters.

"What you _need_ to do is avoid any more drama in your life." Rachel tells her, "_Well, can't you see me standing here, I've got my back against the record machine_." She sings as she bounces Jax in her lap, "_I ain't the worst that you've seen_."

"Okay, bitch, you need to learn some _real_ lullabies." Brooke tells her seriously, and then eyes Jax. "He's gonna end up with issues if you keep singing him U2 and Van Halen. How hard is it to learn "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" or something?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Not my fault my bitch mother never taught me any." She counters, then waves a hand dismissively, "Anyhoo, that's not the point. Don't change the subject. So, tell me about the dream again?"

"Ugh!" Brooke groans in frustration, "I told you—it was the stupid State Championship, and we won, and then Lucas declared his feelings for me and kissed me. And I was just about to say something back, but then I woke up... What do you think that means?"

Rachel takes the pint of ice-cream out of her hands and swallows a scoop. "Well, they say dreaming about a memory usually means you're ready to put it behind you. But you didn't dream about a memory, did you? You dreamed about what you wanted to happen eight years ago." She chuckles wryly, "Way to let go of the past, B."

"I don't want Lucas, okay? I don't want the baggage. I'm having fun now," Brooke says, "And that's all I want." She sighs, "Lets change the subject: how was the date? Because, seriously, you and Jake Jaglieski? _Never_ thought _that_ was gonna happen."

Rachel hits the brunette with a pillow, "Don't hate. Jake's a nice guy, and he gets the whole having-a-kid thing. I don't know, I've been fooling around with randoms for a while, but I'm kind of over that now. I think I should...try for something real. Settling down or whatever it is responsible grown-ups do."

Brooke sighs, her hazel eyes staring down her best friend seriously, "Look, I'm only going to bring this up now because you're talking about settling down, and then I'll go back to conveniently ignoring it. Jax's dad, is there really nothing there? He's not gonna pop up for a family reunion or you're not gonna wanna give the whole mommy-and-daddy-family thing a try?"

Rachel hugs Jax a little tighter to her chest, "No. No, there's not." She presses a kiss to the top of his head, "And there is really no way he's going to show up here to want anything. It's not a possibility." She clears her throat, "And this is the last we're talking about _that_, okay?"

"Okay." Brooke surrenders, knowing the redhead won't budge. She glances at the clock, "Crap, I'm late." She gets out of bed and slides on a pair of jeans over her boy-shorts, "I'm meeting Clay for coffee. Want me to take Jax?"

Rachel shakes her head, "Nah, we're gonna have some mommy/son bonding time today, aren't we, Rockstar?"

Jax merely giggles. Brooke presses a kiss to his forehead and instructs Rachel to lock up the house when she leaves.

**-xx-**

Chris Keller and Jake walk down Main Street, heading towards the little diner on third. "Tell me ya tapped that!" Chris prompts as he playfully shoves his best friend. "Dude—it is _Rachel Gatina_! Tell me you hooked it up."

Jake shakes his head, "There is something seriously _wrong_ with you, man," he tells him, "1) It was a first date, and 2) I'm not telling you shit."

"Ugh, you just blatantly throw the Bro Code in the trash, man!" Chris whines, "We're _guys_—we're supposed to exchange stories about hook-ups."

Before Jake can finish telling him off, a raspy voice calls out his name excitedly: "Jake!" Brooke greets, clearly enthused as she jogs towards him and pulls him into a hug. "Jake Jaglieski, as I live and breathe. I heard you were in town." Her hazel eyes narrow, "Keller..." she says half-heartedly, turns to Jake once more, "You know you can do much better than hanging out with this douche, right?"

"Yes. I'm well aware." Jake nods with a smile, "Hey, nice to see you again, man—Clay, right?" he says as he shakes hands with Clay.

Clay nods, "Yeah. I see you made it through the date with Rae. Impressive feat, man."

Brooke punches Clay's arm, "C'mon, we can catch up over coffee," she offers, linking an arm with Clay's and leading the guys into the diner.

It takes no time for Chris and Clay to get caught up in a heated game of foosball, leaving Brooke and Jake to catch up.

Jake's staying in Tree Hill for a while, working with Chris and Haley on their latest single. Apparently he really likes Rachel, which is good because Brooke immediately warns him that if he hurts the redhead, she will kill him and make it look like an accident.

"Have you talked to Peyton at all?" Brooke asks, taking a sip from her cup of coffee.

Jake shakes his head, "Not in years." He says, "Heard she married Lucas, but Haley told me they're getting a divorce. I haven't run into her, though."

Brooke blinks, stares down at her hands for a second, "Do you ever...wonder what would've happened if Peyton had chosen you? All those years ago, everything would be so different. Don't you ever think about it?"

"I used to," Jake answers honestly, "But she didn't. Chose me, I mean. And there's really no point in wondering what could've been, is there?"

"No. No, I guess there's not."

Chris walks back over to the table, plops down in his chair, "Clay's a friggin' cheater," he declares grumpily.

"And Chris is sore loser," says Clay as he sits down next to Brooke and throws an arm loosely around her shoulders, "Take it like a man and pay up, Keller—thirty bucks, c'mon."

Chris pouts and surrenders the cash over. "C'mon, Jay," he says, "We gotta get down to the studio anyways. Later, freaks!"

Jake slaps him upside the head and with that they're gone.

Brooke and Clay laugh at the sight, "Brooke thinks Chris is an idiot." The brunette says with a chuckle.

"Clay agrees." Answers Clay.

They'd been relentlessly mocking Chris over the whole talking-in-the-third-person thing for a while now.

"Hey, B.," Clay says, his tone turning slightly more serious, "I know we're always crashing at your place, but how about we head to my house today. We can hit the beach later." He offers.

While they'd all been over to Clay's enormous beachside house before, Brooke rarely stayed over there. That was usually were Clay brought the one-night stands, but as of late his only fuck-buddy was Brooke.

"Sure." Brooke answers, "I love the beach."

**-xx-**

Lucas and Peyton sat on a picnic table, watching Sawyer play in the brightly colored jungle gym. "Good girl!" they clap when the toddler goes down the slide.

Peyton clears her throat, "Okay, so, Red Bedroom stays mine, the house is yours," she lists off, looking over the papers, "We're splitting everything else, anything in particular you want to keep?"

"Um, my mom's stuff. Comet's yours, though," Lucas coughs, "And I've no interest in arguing pettily over the record collection or the books. How about we each keep what's ours?"

"Sounds fair enough," Peyton mutters, cuts her eyes back to the jungle gym, "Sawyer, careful!" she calls out to her daughter, turns her attention back to Lucas, "And about Sawyer, we can split custody. We can bring the lawyers into it again, I'm not sure how you prefer to spit the time..."

Lucas scoffs at the feigned peace gesture. "Seriously. I know you talked to the lawyers, so spare me the patronizing lie—the only reason you're talking to me about shared custody right now is because you know you've got no shot in hell of getting sole custody." He shakes his head, "Don't worry, though. I'm not that petty. Sawyer loves you; you're her mother. And unlike you, I'd never keep her mother away from her. I wouldn't hurt her like that."

"No, of course not. You're just waiting until Brooke spreads her legs for you, and then Sawyer can have two mommies!" Peyton exclaims with mock-enthusiasm, "Normally I'd say don't get your hopes up, but since she's so easy I wouldn't rule it out. I mean, you are aware you're effectively trading your family for a _cheap_ hook-up."

Lucas pinches the bridge of his nose, "Jesus! Make no mistake, Peyton—this marriage is over. Even if Brooke never wants _anything_ to do with me, that's irrelevant. Because the truth is I just don't want to be with _you_ anymore." Lucas shakes his head, lets out a dry chuckle, "And you can call me a dick and say that I threw our marriage out for nothing, but the truth is we've been broken for a while now. And I'm done trying to fix it—I'm done trying to fix _us_. I'm tired of it. The only thing decent thing that ever came out our relationship is _Sawyer_. And that's the only thing I'm fighting for here. My daughter's the one thing I care about—and I will not let her become collateral damage of this train wreck you're so fond of calling a perfect relationship."

Peyton glares at him with hate-filled green eyes, "When did you become such a selfish bastard?"

"I'd say right around the time you became such a psychotic bitch, but it's getting pretty clear that you've _always _been like that!" Lucas hisses back at her. He lets out a breath, "Look, I don't have a problem sharing custody of Sawyer. _How_ we split the time, maybe we should settle that with the lawyers."

Peyton rolls her eyes, "Well, she's been staying with you for the past few weeks. I can't exactly move her into the hotel, and the apartment's not furnished yet. We should revisit that issue when I've finished moving in. The system we have now is not perfect, but it's working. At least she sees us together enough so that it bears some semblance to normalcy."

Lucas glances at Sawyer and smiles. They didn't exactly have a schedule, but they split the time with her pretty even, and both were usually there to tuck her in. "God..." But Lucas is not stupid. He knows that part of the reason Peyton likes what they're doing now is because they still have to see each other every day. "Look, we can wait until you settle into your place, but then that's it—I want to make it easy on her, but...we're done. And I don't want to have to keep seeing with you every single day." He sighs, "You still want to stay with her for the rest of the day?"

The words feel like a slap to Peyton's face, "Yeah. I promised her we'd go get ice-cream." She says, "I'll bring her over later."

Lucas nods, and jogs over to Sawyer. "Hey, Sweets!" he calls out to her, picking her up and tossing her in the air, "Look, I gotta go now, but Mommy's gonna hang with you for the rest of the day. I'll see you at bedtime, though. Tuck you in, and read you a story?"

Sawyer pouts, but links her pinky with her father's, "OK"

With that, Lucas kisses her goodbye.

**-xx-**

Sunlight creeps in between the curtains.

Egyptian cotton sheets slide off their tangled bodies as Brooke rolls off Clay and sinks back into bed.

One thing's for sure: Clayton Evans wears her out like no other guy can.

Clay circles an arm around the brunette's stomach and presses a kiss to her shoulder. "Fuck, Dimples." He chuckles, "You're a fucking goddess, you know that?"

"So I've heard before."

Clay moves over to straddle her waist and looks down at her. "Ready for round two?" He dips his head down and leaves a trail of kisses from her shoulder to her neck, nibbles on that sensitive spot behind her ear.

Brooke giggles, dimples protruding in that way that turns Clay on beyond belief. She bites her lip, fingers running through Clay's short hair, and then her nails rake down his strong back.

Clay winces from the pain. Harsh fingertips dig into the brunette's thighs harder as he thrusts into her more vigorously. Cobalt-blue eyes lock with hazel ones, and its like everything magnifies. Lust. Touch. Taste. Clay makes a million things explode in her all at the same time.

"I-ugh-I need-oh-you so much," the words struggle to fall out of Clay's lips, the gyration of Brooke's hips eliciting continuous moans from him, "Dimples! I-ah-lo-"

The words die on his tongue as the brunette quickens the movements of her hips, her hands pulling Clay's body even closer to hers causing sparks of pleasure to surge through both their bodies.

Plump red lips crash against his in a passionate kiss. The action fires Clay further, his teeth sink into her collarbone, certain to leave a mark. His actions elicit a loud moan from Brooke, this time her nails dig into his biceps as the pleasure builds inside her until together they reach their mind-blowing release.

Brooke collapses on top of Clay. Their skin is flushed and their lungs are tight as they pant, attempting to catch their breath. It fucking feels like their hearts are about to explode outta their chests. Strangely enough, they're both somewhat proud of the bruises they'd left on each other during the heat of the moment.

Clay murmurs something against Brooke's ear as his fingers run along her bare thigh slowly. Even after they're done fucking, his hands look to explore her skin further. Brooke smiles lightly, "Fuck that was good,"

Clay grins his best lopsided grin and nuzzles his face in her pile of chocolate locks. Brooke tilts her head and presses a kiss to his lips. "I swear to fuckin' god, you're amazing, Brooke Davis." He whispers as his hands continue to travel over every inch of her bare skin. "I..."

Brooke's lips graze his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "This is nice."

"Knew you'd like it."

Brooke kinks an eyebrow, "What do you think you know?"

"I know _you_. And you know why?" Clay licks his lips, "Because I watch you...I have no idea what makes me do it. And I don't just watch, I _see_..."

Brooke clears her throat, "That means you can see what a mess I am?" she says, tries to lighten up the moment.

Clay grabs chin, makes her lock eyes with him. "I mean it: I _see you_. And for some reason, I don't want to walk away."

**-xx-**

Chase Adams has a bad feeling about this day from the minute he starts to set up the bar.

Nothing's particularly off, but something in his gut tells him today will be a bad day.

And it all starts when Clayton Evans walks into TRIC that afternoon.

Clay sits at an empty stool and taps the bar, "Ace!" he calls out, "Scotch, single-malt."

Chase pours the drink easily and hands it to Clay. The bartender makes himself busy and finished prepping the bar for the day.

It's then that the brooding blonde walks into the bar, takes a seat a few stools down from Clay, "Hey, Luke," greets Chase, flips the bar-rag over his shoulder, "Getcha anything?"

"Uh, just a beer," says Lucas. Chase hands him the bottle and heads to the back to get another box.

Clay eyes the blonde curiously for a few seconds, "So, you're Lucas Scott, huh? We've never officially met. I'm Clay Evans, Nate's agent."

"I know who you are." Answers Lucas, taking a pull from the beer bottle.

Clay smirks at the attitude, "How's the _divorce_?" he asks jeeringly. On pure reflex, Clay dislikes this dude. He's already hurt Brooke once before. Clay doesn't trust him not to do it again.

"None of your business, actually." Lucas answers angrily, he scoffs, "You think you belong here. But you don't. Not really. I mean, who the hell are you? You're _no one_. You've been here, what, a few months? This is my life. This is my family. Jamie's my godson, Haley's my best friend, Nathan's my brother, Brooke's—" his voice falters here because he honestly has no idea what (if anything) Brooke is to him.

(He thinks he gave up the right to call her his a long time ago.)

"Brooke's your what, huh?" Clay pushes back, "You wanna know who the hell I am? I'm the one who's been here all the time you've been away! So, really, who the hell are _you_, man? You walked away and expect to come back and let everyone fall into your schedule? Fuck that. Life kept going. Nobody here hit the pause button for you." He scoffs, "Nobody gives a shit about you!"

Lucas glares, "_Brooke_ does."

"You think you know Brooke?" Clay scoffs, "_Please_. You don't know the first fucking thing about her. I know her! I see her! Even when she doesn't utter a fucking word, I understand her! And I'm the one who's been taking care of her!"

"Some great job you've been doing of that! You know how messed up she's been lately? Do you know she climbed up to the fucking roof, wasted enough that jumping seemed like fun? That is not her!" Counters Lucas, he shakes his head, "The drinking, the fucking around, the carelessness... That is _not_ who Brooke is!"

"No, that _is_ Brooke. And you don't see that—you don't appreciate it. Brooke is…she's amazing. She's carefree and wild and she loves to have a good time. It's not just drinking and fucking around. She's the freest woman I've ever met. The very things you want to _tame_ about her, those are the very things I _love_ about her." he hisses, "And FYI, she wasn't climbing up to any rooftops until your sorry ass crawled back into town!"

And that's what finally sets Lucas off. He throws a punch, his fist connecting with Clay's jaw. "You know what," strong hands grip the collar of the agent's shirt, "say what you wanna say: Yeah, I left. But I'm back, and I want to be with her. She deserves _better_ than you! What are you offering her? You're a whore—yeah, I've heard the stories." Lucas yells, gets in the young agent's face daringly, " But she's not just another notch in my bedpost. She will never be just another fuck to me!"

Clay shoves the brooder off, slams his fist right into his gut, and leaves Lucas gasping for air. "She's more than a fuck to me, too!" he yells back, his declaration surprising even himself.

"Whoa!" Chase drops the box of beer on the floor, the sound of the crystal bottles shattering flood the bar. He gets in between Clay and Lucas, arms stretched out to separate them, "The hell's going on?"

His presence doesn't seem to deter either Clay or Lucas. Both males glare, ready to tackle each other to the ground. Chase presses the palms of his hands to Lucas' chest, "Luke," he starts, "Maybe you should go. Okay, take some time. Cool off. Just walk away, man."

Clay and Lucas stare at each other for a beat. The impulse to continue the fight are strong, but they're both smart. They know that kicking the shit out of each other won't get them what they want.

Besides, Brooke Davis has never been that impressed with physical violence.

**-xx-**

Brooke Davis walks into TRIC, places her purse on the bar, "Hey, I thought we were meeting up for lunch today," she starts, but halts when she sees the busted lip. Clay's pressing a glass of something (Scotch, she's guessing) to it, "What happened?"

Clay slides off the stool, stands closer to Brooke. "I met Lucas." he whispers in the brunette's ear, "And that's a very nice boy you got." His tone is laced with sarcasm.

Brooke swallows the lump that forms in her throat. "What did Lucas say to you?" she asks.

"_Enough_." answers Clay, "He's here, he pulled you off the edge of a fucking roof, he's gonna get you back—he's the Good Guy, right!" he chuckles wryly, "Not like me. Nah, I'm the Good-Time Guy. The one you're fucking to pass the time, is that it?"

Brooke shakes her head, "Clay, you're my friend. What we've been doing lately it's...I mean, it's not... We're not a couple, okay?

"Oh, come off it!" Clay howls at her. "I know we're not a couple. I'm not your fucking boyfriend! But I thought we had something going here. I should've known better, though. Your life is a _series_ of hit-and-runs. The minute something makes you feel uncomfortable, the second it gets real, you wanna fuckin' bail!"

"Oh, cut the bullshit, Clay—I _know_ you! Like you're not exactly the same as me. Don't try and pretend you're any better. When the simple truth is that players only love you when they're playing." Brooke eyes him disdainfully, "And you're no different."

"Don't you get it?" Clay yells back at her, gets in her face, "I thought it was a game! I thought I didn't want it! I thought that could _never_ be me. But I'm just tired of the endless disconnect. I don't want to fuck around anymore—I want _you_!" his chest rises heavily and he struggles to catch his breath, "I want _us_." He waits a beat, but after he gets no response he asks, "Do _you_?"

**-xx-**

Brooke is sitting behind the store counter, though she's not entirely aware of anything right now. Normally she'd call Rachel, but the redhead's at a meeting with the Macy's rep right now.

When the little bell rings to announce Lucas Scott's presence in the store, she doesn't even notice until the blonde's standing right in front of her. "I'm sorry about the thing with Clay today."

Brooke stares at him for a beat, as if she can't quite process that he's standing right there. "It's not me you should be apologizing to."

"Well, I'm not exactly gonna apologize to _him_." Lucas mutters, and the he sighs, "Look, that's not all I came to say. I wanted to... I'm sorry about what happened with Peyton—while we were together, I mean. About the kiss and…everything else, too." Lucas admits honestly.

Brooke furrows her brow, "That was all a really long time ago, Lucas."

"I know." Lucas nods, "But I never really accepted my share of the blame, never apologized for it. So I'm sorry. I know it's late, but...well, timing's apparently not my strong suit."

"Okay." Brooke nods, not knowing what else to say. Ever since Lucas had come back, everything was so fucking ass-backwards.

"I miss you." Lucas admits then. And it amazes Brooke how easily all these words are rolling off his tongue.

Brooke gulps, now she knows where this conversation is going (where He wants it to go), and she's not sure she's ready for that yet. "You were supposed to move on, Lucas. You got _married_, for god's sake. We were supposed to be done already."

"I know." Lucas brings a hand up to caress the brunette's cheek, "But it doesn't feel like we're done."

Brooke's petite hand wraps around his and she pulls it away. She shakes her head, "You broke my heart, Lucas."

"I know. That's why I'm apologizing. You deserved better."

They go silent once more. Brooke doesn't know how to respond to this. This was never supposed to happen. "_Don't_. Do you see how this is messing me up right now? I thought we'd put this away. But now you keep bringing it back up. What am I supposed to do with any of this?" There's a pause, and the silence is quite possibly killing them both.

Eventually, Lucas thinks of what he needs to say—what he should've said all those years ago in his bedroom when Brooke came to tell him she couldn't do this anymore.

_'I guess I should have said something. Anything. I mean, for a guy who wants to be a writer, it suddenly seemed like no words had ever been written. But when someone tells you that they somehow stopped missing you, you're pretty much screwed no matter what you say._ _See, but there had to be something, right? Something that no one had ever said in the history of the world. Something that could change this.'_

And eight years later, Lucas Scott has finally figured out what that something is. _I love you._

But he doesn't say it, instead he flashes her a half-smile, "I'll be seeing you, Brooke."

**AN: ...so, I thought after I heard everyone's input I'd have clearer idea of who'll be endgame, but I keep switching back and forth between the two couples. I love them both. They're both awesome. In conclusion: I am so fucking torn right now.**


	7. More Than Nothing

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**AN: So (after I have no idea how I long) I've finally updated my profile here. I also added a poll about this story, so go check it out and VOTE. **

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**_More Than Nothing_**

"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't take more."  
>"You mean you can't take less," said the Hatter: "it's very easy to take more than nothing."<p>

—Lewis Carroll

**-xx-**

Clayton Evans still sits on his stool at the TRIC bar. Bottle of Silver Patrón in hand, he pours two shots and sprinkles salt on his hand. "Lick it. Slam it. Lime." The light-haired brunette explains. "How did you never learn to do this before?"

Jake licks the salt off his hand, downs the shot of tequila and sucks on the lime. He winces at the strong taste of the liquor mixed with sourness of the lime. "I had a kid high school," he groans, "Didn't leave much time for partying. And this is Tree Hill. Our parties had cheap keg beer, maybe rum and Coke."

Clay downs two shots in a row, and heavy eyelids fall closed.

_I'm just tired of the endless disconnect._

_I don't want to just fuck around anymore—I want _you_!_

_I want _us_!_

What the hell had he been thinking? Brooke hadn't even said anything. She'd just muttered something about not being able to do this right now and bolted.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm a tequila guy." Jake announces soundly, breaking Clay out of his stupor. "And, honestly, I don't think it's helping you much, either." He adds, takes the crystal bottle out of Clay's hands. "What's going on with you right now?"

Clay rests his elbows on the bar and sinks his face into the palms of his hands, his fingertips running through his hair. "Everything." He answers, "Everything's fucked up right now."

Jake sighs—he is so not equipped to be babysitting a drunk Clay right now. He barely even knows the guy. Lucky for him, Rachel walks into the bar just then. Talk about saved by the bell.

"Hey, handsome," Rachel lays a hand upon Jake's shoulder and flashes him a smile, "Sorry I'm late." Her eyes dart to Clay, "Ugh, what is wrong with you? And what the hell happened to your lip?"

Clay locks eyes with her, as if they're having some sort of wordless conversation. "I'm gonna go..." Jake lets his voice trail off, "Um, I'll just wait for you over there, okay," he points a thumb at an empty table and gives them their privacy.

Rachel places a hand on her waist, "I'm not gonna ask again, Clay."

"Lucas Scott wants Brooke back. We had some angry words about it," Clay points a fingers at his busted lip, "Don't worry, though. I nailed him pretty good, too."

Rachel blinks. This is what she's been expecting all along. Because Lucas Scott quite possibly has the worst timing in the world, especially when it comes to Brooke Davis. "You talk to Brooke yet?"

Clay nods, "Didn't go over too well, either." Cobalt-blue eyes focus of the empty glass in front of him, "I told her I'm done fucking around. I want us to be together."

Rachel sighs, places a hand on the small of Clay's back, "She bolted, didn't she?" Clay nods once more, "I'm sorry. But it doesn't mean she doesn't care. She's just...a little confused right now."

"She walked away, Rae," Clay answers dryly, "I know she cares, but..."

"No but," Rachel cuts in, "She cares. Period. With Lucas and Peyton, well, you know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge—"

"Oh, I know there's a lot of bad water," Clay says dryly, "I'm just not sure it's under the bridge. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Jesus! Do I have to spell everything out for you?" Rachel chides, her annoyance starting to show—patience has never been one of her virtues. "Did you sniff too much glue as a child? What you do now is _fight_ _for her_. You don't let her run away."

Clay has to crack a grin at the redhead's comments. "Knew I could count on you to cheer me up, Rae," he says sarcastically. "Look, I'm not gonna corner her right now—y'know that'd just piss her off more."

"Well, _duh_! I'm not saying go all _Say Anything_ and stand outside her house playing a cheesy Peter Gabriel song. I'm saying let her know you're there for her. Because even is she _did_ walk away, she needs to know that _you_ won't."

"You know I wouldn't do that."

Rachel nods, "I know. Now go make sure B. knows it, too." She says, "Put that God-given charm of yours to good use, at least for once."

Clay grins once more, "How'd you get to be so smart, Rae?"

The redhead winks, "Baby, I was born this way." After giving Rachel a quick hug, Clay leaves.

"Everything okay now?" Jake asks, taking Clay's empty stool.

Rachel licks her lips, "Not even close." She answers, "The fight for Brooke Davis' heart is on. Anyone wanna place any wagers?"

It's meant to be a joke, but there's a ring of truth in it. Because Brooke will have to chose someone at some point.

**-xx-**

Clay walks into the house as he usually does. The lights are turned off, and Brooke's curled up on the couch watching a movie. Clay grins when he spots the half-empty pint of Häagen-Dazs on the coffee table. He knows Brooke only eats ice-cream by the pint when she's stressed out.

"Did ya save me some?" Clays asks casually, "You know coffee's my favorite."

Brooke furrows her brow—because _today_, Clay Evans is quite possibly the last person she was expecting to walk into her house. "You're here." She states, the confusion in her tone more than evident, "Why are you here?"

"It's what we do, B." Clay answers easily, sits down on the couch next to her.

"But we fought." Brooke presses, "You...said things, and I walked away. We had a fight. And now you show up here."

Clay nods, "Of course I showed up. This is how it works. You fight sometimes and somebody apologizes." He explains gently, "And no matter what, you can always expect that I'm gonna show up. Even when we fight, I'm always gonna show up. Okay?"

And that's the first thing that makes Brooke Davis smile that afternoon. "Okay." She says, pauses for a beat, "I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry. It's just...everything's so messed up right now. We started having sex and it's great and Lucas is back and I just don't..." tears flow freely from hazel eyes, and she struggles to catch her breath. "I don't know..." She is fully aware that she's rambling like a crazy person, and to top it all off she's _crying_ now. "I don't..." she breathes heavily, surrendering to the tears.

"Shh, shh," Clay pulls her into his arms, presses a kiss to the top of her head, "hey, it's okay," he attempts to soothe her. He cups her face in his hands, and looks her in the eyes, "Just listen to me, okay," he tells her seriously, "I like the sex. The sex is _great_. But I can live without it. I just...I don't think I'd do so well if I didn't have _you_ in my life. I need my best friend. That's the one thing I can't do without."

Brooke nods weakly, burrows her face in his broad chest. This is too much. She can't do this. Not now. She was just starting to get her shit together. And now there's Lucas and there's Clay. And it's all too much.

"Stay with me. Please."

"Yeah," Clay nods, holding her tighter, "Yeah, of course I'll stay."

**-xx-**

Lucas sits on a stool, elbows resting on the kitchen island. His ocean-blue eyes stare straight ahead, and he has his best brooding face on.

"Been here, what, three weeks, four?" Skills says as he hands his broody friend a beer, "And _now_'s when you roll in to talk to your boy? Dawg, that's messed up. I ain't seen your scrawny ass since J-Luke's b-day bash."

The comments elicit a grin from Lucas, "Yeah, sorry, man." he takes a pull from the Heineken bottle, "It's been a pretty complicated month."

Skills scoffs, "That the understatement of year right there," he says, "I mean, you and P. Scott—or is it P. Sawyer, now?—are gettin' divorced. You got into a fistfight with Agent Boy—which Imma guess was about B. Davis. Did I miss anything?"

"Nope. That's pretty much it." Lucas answers, "Oh, and you forgot I have Sawyer to think about. Plus I'm still a good five months away from making my divorce final—and that's _if_ we resolve custody issues promptly."

Skills scoffs, "Dawg, Imma be crude here 'cause this drama has officially been going on for too damn long now: pussy's your problem. You don't know how to handle it. It's Brooke, it's Peyton, it's Lindsay—and I ain't even mentioning the Anna-Phase here. You fall in love too much. You fall in love too fast. And you fall _out_ of love too easy. That shit ain't right."

Lucas frowns, "Skills—"

"Don't be gettin' mad a me," Skills cuts him off, "You came to me 'cause you know I give it to you straight. I don't sugarcoat it—I tell ya the truth when the truth's what ya need to hear. And it looks to me like you need some truth right about now."

"Ugh," Lucas groans, runs his fingers through his hair, "You're right. But I think I'm done with that now—the indecision, I mean. Because if I'm not with Brooke, I still don't wanna be with Peyton. Not anymore. Our marriage just doesn't work."

Skills nods, taking it all in, "If somethin' doesn't work—if you can't fix it—you should end it. Stayin' in a bad marriage just because don't do anybody any good. So good for you for havin' the guts to end things, dawg." he says, "Now, about B. Davis...you done dropped the ball with her plenty of times now. Just make sure not to drop it this time, ya feel me?"

Lucas nods, bumps his fist with Skills, "Yeah." he says with a half-grin, "I feel ya."

And he won't drop the ball with Brooke—not again, not this time.

**-xx-**

Haley runs around the living room, picking up Jamie's toys and tidying the place up. Clay leans against the wall, hands tucked in his jeans' pockets, and watches her for a second, "Want some help?" he asks.

"Clay," Haley presses a hand to her chest, startled to find the agent standing there. Then she furrows her brow, "What're you doing here? You know Nathan's shooting the second add today, right?"

Clay nods, "Yeah, I know. I actually came to see you."

Haley can immediately see something's off about Clay—he isn't grinning or making jokes. That alone sends her spidey senses a-tingling. "Okay, sure," she flashes him a gentle smile, "Wanna go outside? Beautiful day," she offers.

"Sure."

The pair heads out to the backyard and they sit on he edge of the pool, dipping their toes in the warm water. Haley scrunches up her eyes, looks away from the sun, "You gonna say anything soon or am I gonna have to drag whatever it is out of you?"

"Did you know that Lucas wants Brooke back?" Clay answers her question with another question. "I know you think I'm the boy who's never gonna grow up, and that I'll never...but I do care about her."

Haley blinks, the pain in Clay's voice is practically palpable. "I never thought this would be an issue." She admits, "I mean, I thought you'd be the one to hurt Brooke." She grips Clay's hand, "It never crossed my mind that she might hurt you."

Clay flashes her a sad half-smile, "I got in a fight with Lucas. At TRIC. Chase had to pull us apart." He says, pauses for a beat, "I want to be with Brooke. As more than a friend. More than what we are right now."

"Well that explain why Luke's been avoiding my calls." Haley mutters, then she eyes him with amused curiosity, "Clayton Evans...are you growing up right now?"

Clay shrugs, "Well, I feel like shit, so probably."

"Have you told any of this to Brooke, Clay? Have you told her how you feel?"

Clay looks down at his hands, "I wanted to tell her...I tried, but it was..." he sighs, "I wanted to say that she'd never have to be alone, if she doesn't want to be. Because I want to be with her. But it came out all wrong. And she walked away. Couldn't tell her after that. It would've only freaked her out more."

Haley rests her head on his shoulder, and Clay in turn rests his head atop of Haley's. "It'll be okay, Clay." She assures him, "I know it feels like...everything's messed up right now. But everything's gonna be okay."

Part of Haley feels that there's something false about that promise, but she has to hope that things _will_ work out. Even if they're a complete mess right now.

**-xx-**

Brooke groans as she slumps her head against the kitchen table. "Why do you _not_ have liquor here?" she asks, her voice muffled by her arm.

"'Cause I'm in N.A. and even though I drink, I prefer not to keep any alcohol in the house." Rachel states matter-of-factly. "And I don't think you should be drowning your issues with alcohol—that's how you end up with a problem. Also, when _I'm_ acting as the voice of reason, that's when you know things are really fucked up."

Jax giggles from his high-chair, "Momma!"

Rachel grins at him, nuzzles her nose against his, "That's right, Rockstar. Things are really effed up when Momma's the sanest one in the room."

"Fine. I'll take a Coke then." Brooke grumbles as she pulls a bottle out of the fridge. "What I'm gonna do, Rae? Lucas keeps popping up, and he keeps saying these things...and I've got Clay, and he's been so great with me."

"You're just that good, B. There's no getting over you." Rachel mocks with a smirk.

Brooke rolls her eyes, "I'm serious. I don't know what to do here. I thought Lucas and I were done—I was supposed to be over him. And then there's Clay. It was supposed to be just sex. Actually it wasn't even supposed to be that, but then somehow we ended up in bed together. And he's my friend and I care about him. He gets me and he makes me laugh and he...he _knows me_, and he doesn't ever walk away. And I don't want to break him."

Rachel sighs, "Then don't."

"I'm trying..." Brooke groans, and slumps her back down onto the table.

Rachel stands up, "C'mon. I know what you need."

**-xx-**

Rachel bounces Jax against her hip and Brooke looks around the empty field. Even with the lights on, it's kind of dark, and the place is creepy deserted. "How did you even find this place?"

Rachel grabs some gear, "Jake brought me here on a date once." she says, "He was trying to be cute, I guess."

"Okay, what're we doing here?" Brooke asks.

Rachel sets Jax down, and gives him a baseball to play with. "Wait here, baby," She then picks up a helmet, "We are here because _you_," she starts, places the helmet on her brunette friend's head, "need a distraction. And you need to clear your head."

"And the baseball field is the place to do that?" Brooke asks, kinks an eyebrow. "I don't have time to play games. I need to—"

Rachel holds a finger up to the brunette's face, "We're not gonna talk about it." she says, places a bat in Brooke's hands, "We're here to play baseball."

Brooke stares at the baseball bat in her hands, "You know, I'm sorry." she shakes her head, takes of the helmet. "I'm leaving." The brunette turns to head back to the car.

Rachel picks Jax up and runs ahead of Brooke to block her way. "Whoa. Whoa. You need this." she assures her, places the helmet back on with her free hand, "Keep this _on_. That's right." the redhead takes Brooke's hand and drags her towards home plate.

Rachel grabs the controller of the pitching machine and turns it on, "Now, hit the ball!"

Brooke groans, "I don't _want_ to hit the ball!" she pouts like an annoyed child. "AAAH!" she squeals as the baseball zooms by her, missing her head by a couple of inches.

Rachel places her hands on her hips, "Brooke, things are shit right now. You're confused. It's understandable. I get it. But you need to stop thinking about what's gonna happen. Clear the noise from your head. You need to focus on what's right in front of you—Now, hit the ball!"

Brooke rolls her eyes, but squares herself. She vaguely remembers what Clay and Nathan had taught her about baseball that one time they'd gotten too drunk—keep elbow . It's a particularly odd feeling when the bat connects with the ball. Like she's just accomplished something monumental. "Oh my God! I hit it!" Brooke shrieks excitedly. "I hit it! Oh my God!"

"WHOO!" Rachel raises her arms in triumph, cheering for her best friend, "Yes! That's what I'm talking about!" she claps.

Brooke laughs, "Oh my God! That was amazing!" her chest is heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. "That was so awesome!"

"Wanna go again?" Rachel asks with a mischievous smirk. Brooke nods eagerly, and the redhead sends another ball her way.

Rachel let out a sigh of relief—she's happy that she could help Brooke clear her mind, if only for a little while. No matter what, she will not see her best friend get heartbroken again.

**-xx-**

Brooke runs around the house frantically searching for her keys—as per usual, she's running late.

Just as she's about to head out the door, there stands Clay Evans in her doorway, "Hey," he greets with his best lopsided grin, "Um, got a second? I need to talk to you."

Brooke nods, "Sure. Wanna come inside?"

"No, no. Um, here's fine. Look I...I've been thinking a lot lately. Y'know, I've always just thought that every relationship you have is going to end, until you have one that doesn't. And I keep thinking about all the surprises I've gotten in my life from all the people I _thought_ I knew. That's why I've never committed to anyone. But you and I, we know everything about each other—the good, the bad, the ugly. And I'm not just okay with who you are, I _love_ who you are. I'd go to the end of the earth for you, Dimples." Clay lets out a nervous chuckle, "What I'm trying to say here is: I love you. I'm _in_ love with you. I think I've been in love with you forever. Ever since the beginning, it's always been you. And I know that this is a lot to drop on you right now, but...I didn't want to let the moment pass. I don't want our time to just slip by us. It's...you can't win the game unless you actually get on the field and play. What I mean is, I'm never going to get anything unless I say something, unless I ask for it. So I'm saying it now. I want to be with you."

Brooke blinks, "Clay..."

Clay shakes his head, "You don't have to say anything right now. In fact, I don't want you to. I don't want to pressure you." he says, "I just...I want you to know how I feel. Because I know we can be great together." he cups her face in his hands and presses a kiss to her forehead, "Just think about it."

With that, Clay gets on his Harley and drives away.

**-xx-**

Brooke sits behind the counter, sketch book in hand. She's been trying to finish up some new designs for over two hours now, but she just can;t focus. Clay's words keep playing on repeat in her head. "Ugh!" she groans, balls up another paper and tosses into the trashcan. She lets out a breath and starts the sketch over again. "C'mon, B. Davis," she says to herself, "Pull it together."

It's then the bell hanging over the door rings to announce a customer. Lucas Scott walks in, and Brooke automatically looks down, snaps her eyes shut. "Fuck my life." she mutters under her breath, then looks up to Lucas. "Luke. Hey. What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." Lucas answers, "I wanted to... I wanted to say that I get it. I get why you're freaked out. We were done. We'd both moved on. I'd left. So I get it." he sighs, "But we're not done. Not really. We've never had a proper ending. In some way or another, it's always come back to you. You've been there for me unconditionally. When all my dreams have come true. And then when they haven't. When everything's come together and when everything's fallen apart, you have always been there for me. It took me a long time to see it."

"Lucas—"

"I love you. And I know I'm a little late in telling you that. I've been lying to myself for a really long time now. But you've always been the scariest choice for me to make. Because you and me…it's complicated. We've never been easy. And I don't want us to be—it's not us. We're messy. It's who we are. So I just want you to take your time. You have a choice to make. And I don't wanna rush you into making that decision before you're ready. But you do have a choice to make now. And, eight years ago, when I had a choice to make…I chose _wrong_."

Brooke watches him walk out of the store, and she feels like she wants to faint a little bit. "Jesus, what the fuck is this? Pour-Your-Heart-Out-to-Brooke Day?"

**-xx-**

_BANG_! _BANG_! _BANG_!

Lucas furrows his brow in surprise when he opens his front door, "Rachel Gatina," he starts, leans an arm against the doorframe, "What're you doing here?"

"I knew you and Peyton coming back here was gonna be bad news. I thought you idiots would just start off the same emo-shit drama you always do. But instead, you've left Peyton. Now you're making a move on Brooke. And I don't like it."

Lucas lets out a chuckle of disbelief, "I'm sorry—are you here to threaten me or something?"

"What are we, five?" Rachel rolls her eyes, annoyed, "No, I am not gonna make some stupid threat to kill you if you hurt her. Which, incidentally, I couldn't do even if I wanted to because I have a kid and I can't afford to do time over your scrawny ass. What I'm saying is: It took a long time to make her happy. And she's finally happy. And if _you_ mess with that, I'll turn on you."

Lucas' eyes narrow, he shakes his head, "Why are you doing this, Rachel?"

"Because I don't trust you." the redhead hisses angrily, "I don't trust you with Brooke, and I don't trust _you_ period. When she's with Clay, I don't worry about her. Because I know Clay takes care of her. He's good for her. _You_? Well, all I know about you is that you've already broken her heart before. And I don't trust you won't do it again."

And with that, Rachel Gatina storms off Lucas' porch.

**AN: I've decided that this story will be nowhere near as long as ROA was. Rather than tangle it up too much, I'd rather wrap it up neatly—though it won't be without a little drama. As a part of doing that, I really wanna know what _YOU_ guys think. So tell me your opinions, and the go vote. **


	8. Before & After

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**AN: So...the poll helped not at all 'cause that fucker is _tied_. Here's the next chapter. Feel free to continue giving your opinions. **

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**Before & After**

"Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you."

―Jonathan Safran Foer

**-xx-**

It's Sawyer Brooke Scott's second birthday.

(But more importantly, it's been three months since both Lucas Scott and Clayton Evans have poured their hearts out to Brooke Davis in a love declaration. Brooke in turn tells them both it's not gonna happen. She thinks she broke them both a little bit. She doesn't really know how she feels about that.)

Brooke isn't quite sure why she's even attending this thing—sure, she's the kid's godmother, but not really. Not the way she is with Jax (who she's been there for since the second he was born) or Jamie (who became one of the most important men in her life the second she actively became a part of his life).

Nope. Sawyer B. Scott is her goddaughter in name only. Because of that little piece of paper she'd signed that day at church almost two years ago.

Brooke is 90% sure that it was Lucas' idea to invite her to this thing.

Because things between Brooke and Peyton have gotten worse—if that's even possible. Though for once it wasn't something that Brooke or Lucas did that upset the curly-haired blonde.

This time it's Rachel Gatina who has Peyton Sawyer (and yes, it's_ not_ Scott anymore) going off the deep-end. And it's all over one Jake Jaglieski. Because in Peyton's warped mind Jake was just permanently off-limits—particularly to slutty redheads with bastard children.

But that shit just didn't fly with Rachel. To prove that she didn't give a shit even further, the redhead had recently asked Jake to move in with her and Jax.

(And it was all still too fucking surreal for Brooke because since when is _Rachel_ the sane one with the healthy relationship?)

But still, Brooke attends Sawyer's 2nd birthday party and brings a killer gift and smiles pretty for the pictures. It's what expected of her in this situation, to rise above. And all she really wants right now is for things to go back to normal.

Normal is the watchword.

Nathan greets her, pecks her cheek, "Hey, B.," he greets, hands her one of the two bottles of Bud in his hands, "Here ya go" he says, "Courtesy of Skills. And I gotta feeling we're gonna need it for this one."

Brooke takes a pull from the bottle, never one to turn down alcohol—which she's guessing is scarce at a two-year-old's party. Thank God for Skills' trashy cooler in the trunk of his car. "Why?" she asks hesitantly. The party started like half an hour ago so nothing big could've already gone down. "What's wrong?"

"Well," Nathan starts, "Rach got here early. Her and Jake have been making quite the impression—Jamie and Andre caught them making out in the bathroom. Haley almost threw them out."

Brooke furrows her brow because none of this is particularly atypical for Rachel—until she spots her redheaded best friend coming out of the pool. She's wearing a black one-piece bathing suit that might as well be a no-piece with the way it clung to her wet body.

Nathan arches his eyebrow, "Plus she wore _that_," he adds, tilting his beer bottle towards the redhead subtly.

"Oh. My. _God_." Brooke presses a fist to her mouth in attempt to suppress the laughter. Leave it to Rachel to wear quite possibly the most inappropriate thing ever to a two-year-old's birthday party.

"Yep. That's just what Haley said." Nathan tells her, "She might've added a few choice words to that, though."

Rachel runs over to them, pulls Brooke into a hug. "Hey, bitch, you made it!"

"Yeah," Brooke is now dripping wet from the hug (and she's grateful that she actually wore a bathing suit for this). "Wouldn't miss it for the world—we should go get you a towel or something. Where's Jay?"

Rachel points a thumb at the pool, "Over there," In the pool, Jake stands by the basketball hoop, Jax sitting on his shoulders as they play with the other kids.

"Okay," Brooke sighs, "Cut the crap, Rae—you know you need to cover up, right?"

That's Nathan's cue, "Y'know, they're a few guys short for that game. I'm gonna go get J-Luke so we can join in." And with that he's gone.

Both Rachel and Brooke giggle at Nathan's not-so-subtle escape. "C'mon, gimme a few more minutes," says the redhead, "I wanna see if I can actually make that vein on Peyt-whore's forehead burst."

"Two-year-old's birthday party. This place is flooded with kids. And the parents are gonna have a coronary because of you." Brooke reprimands, "You gotta cover up now. Seriously!"

Rachel pouts, "Fine." she whines, "Ever since you stopped fucking Clay you're just no fun."

Brooke chooses to ignore that last comment and then pulls the loose tank-top off over her head and hands it to the redhead who slides it on. "Didn't you bring anything?"

Rachel shrugs, "Jake's got a button-down around here somewhere. You can have that." She offers, "Aren't you gonna get in? It's a pool party."

Brooke takes another pull from the bottle, "Honestly, I just wanna get through this thing quick and painless." She says, furrows her brow, "How'd you even score an invite to this thing anyways?" She knows Peyton can't stand Rachel and the redhead's not high on Lucas' list of favorite people, either.

"Sawyer and Jax were on the same playgroup at the park—they're actually _friends_." Rachel says with a note of surprise in her tone, "Apparently Sawyer really likes Jax, enough to demand that he gets an invite. At least that's what Luke-ass told Jake." She explains, "Anyway, no need to ask why _you_ got invited. Luke's still not backing off?"

Brooke shakes her head, "Nope. Lucas is still relentless—now even more since the divorce becomes official next week. And Clay's not talking to me." She sighs—a part of her is still not used to functioning without him. "But it's all right. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Right," Rachel jeers, "'Cause normal is the watchword."

Brooke rolls her eyes, "You mock, but I don't care."

**-xx-**

It all goes relatively well for the rest of the afternoon. Haley is a great hostess (which really means she does a fantastic job of keeping Brooke, Rachel and Jake away from Peyton to avoid any inappropriate drama). Before anyone knows it, it's time to cut the cake.

Everyone sings happy birthday, and there's plenty of pictures. Lucas and Peyton with Sawyer. Nathan and Haley with Sawyer. Then someone (Brooke's pretty sure it's Rachel) shouts out for a picture with the godparents.

Nathan proudly steps up, and after an awkward pause, so does Brooke.

Brooke thinks that Peyton's gonna pounce on her for standing so close to her daughter, but miraculously enough, nothing happens. (Maybe it's because not even Peyton is psycho enough to start a catfight at her daughter's birthday party.)

It's after everyone's spread out around eating the cake that Lucas gets a second alone with Brooke. "I've tried calling you." He says.

"And I've ignored your calls." Brooke answers, "Maybe it's time to get the hint and move on, Luke."

This only elicits a smirk, "Look, I get it. I came on too strong. It was too soon to say anything. But I didn't want to waste any time." He says, "I don't wanna waste any more time. I think I've wasted more than enough."

Because every single second of his life spent _without_ her, Lucas had come realize, was truly a waste.

"Lucas, I am _done_." Brooke hisses under her breath, not wanting to draw any attention to them. "You and I—it's not gonna happen. Whatever there was between us...the moment passed. You married Peyton, and that was that. Do you realize how messed up everything is? You're getting divorced. You have a kid. Clay and I are barely talking right now..."

"Brooke, c'mon. Clayton Evans? Seriously? He's...he's the good-time guy. There is no future with him." Lucas tilts his head to the side, flashes her a smile, and reaches out to stroke her cheek gently. "But you and I—_we_ could be something. He's not good for you." He concludes.

Brooke slaps his hand away, "_Don't_." she growls angrily, "Don't. You don't get to say that to me. Because no matter what you say, he was there for me when _you_ weren't, Luke. So no. You do not get to say _anything_ about Clay. Not to me."

"All right." Lucas surrenders, because he actually has no counter for that one, "But I'm here now. And where exactly is Clay?" he licks his lips, "I wasn't lying before: I want to be with you. And I'm ready now. I wasn't ready before—I wasn't steady, I was unsure—but I am ready now."

Brooke shakes her head, "Well, I'm _not_." She tells him, and then walks away.

_Maybe I'm just too fucking complicated to love anyone_, Brooke thinks. _Maybe _I'm_ the problem_. But then she pushes it to the back of her mind.

Because normal is the watchword.

**-xx-**

Clay sits on a barstool and downs his last shot. He slams the shot glass down on the bar, "Another round, Ace!" he calls out, "What am I drinking again?"

"You started out with a beer," Chase starts to list off as he pours three more shots, "Then you moved on to Scotch, then shots of tequila, and then vodka. Now you're onto whiskey. You sure you wanna keep going?"

Clay slumps his head against the bar-top. This is pathetic. He is not pathetic. He is Clayton Evans. He is awesome. Except that all his friends are currently gathered at the local pool park for a two-year-old's birthday party. A party he wasn't invited to.

Furthermore, he'd poured his heart out to the one girl to ever make him fall in love (or at least as close to love as he's ever come before) only to have her tell him that she can't choose. That she needs time. That she needs space. He's mildly grateful that Brooke didn't pull out _all_ the clichés and told him '_it's not you, it's me_'.

So, all in all, drinking seems like his best option. "Yep. I'm sure. Pour another round."

Alex Dupre sits on the stool next to Clay's. "Hello, handsome," she greets with a smirk, eyes the shots, "Can I get in on that?"

"I never turn down a beautiful woman," Clay answers, flashes her his best lopsided grin. It's amazing, really, how even when he's plastered off his ass he can still manage to be that charming—with the inviting cobalt-blue eyes and the perfect smile and the eye contact. "Ace, three more."

They drink. They flirt. It's all pointing to an easy hook-up. But Clay says no to taking her back to his place.

"You're...turning me down?" Alex asks, the confusion in her voice more than evident.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." Clay flashes her yet another grin, "It's not personal. I just already know you. And that'll make it harder to forget who you are when I toss you out in the morning." He explains remarkably matter-of-factly. If it were any other guy, he would've gotten slapped. But he is Clayton Evans.

"Charming." Alex chuckles, grabs her purse, "You know, whoever got you so twisted up, she isn't worth it."

Clay smirks, "You're probably right." He says before slumping his head back onto the bar-top. He whispers, "Then again, you probably don't know Brooke Davis."

Chase raises an eyebrow, "Okay. We all used to hate you. Every guy on this bar hated you with a fiery passion because you always scored—not just scored, you took home the _hottest_ girl here. Sometimes you took home more than one. I mean, you _scored_. Every. _Fucking_. Night. But now, you've pretty much become the only guy I know who cock-blocks himself." He punches his shoulder lightly, "What is up?"

"Being an asshole works, Ace. You just gotta know how to do it right." Clay shakes his head, "And Alex...she seems fun, like a great lay basically. But I just wanna an easy fuck, not a girl I'm gonna keep seeing hanging around. That's too complicated."

Chase flashes him an empathetic smile, "I get it." He too knows what it's like to want Brooke Davis. "Want another round? It's on me."

"Sure. Pour 'em."

**-xx-**

Rachel Gatina walks into Clay's house early in the morning. She doesn't bother knocking, uses the spare key tapped atop the doorframe. To her surprise, the house is pretty decadent.

This is actually unusual for Clay. Despite being an asshole, he is usually a very neat asshole. But there are empty bottles of Scotch and Grey Goose and Patrón lying around.

Just as Rachel's about to head upstairs to rouse him up, she spots him passed out of the couch. The coffee table is littered with empty beer bottles and Red Bull cans, the TV is on blasting the highlights of some basketball game. Clay is lying down on his stomach, an arm and leg dangling off the couch. His ass is covered by a blanket, and Rachel spots his boxer briefs on the floor across the room.

Rachel kicks the couch somewhat violently, "Get off your ass!" the redhead demands far too loudly for Clay's hangover to handle.

"Fuck off." Clay moans and scrunches his eyes. "No yelling," he sits up on the couch, rubs his temples, "Headache and hangover." He groans, feeling suddenly exhausted by Rachel's early morning energy. "Where's my underwear?"

Rachel kicks them up to him, "I brought coffee." She announces as she hands him a paper cup and a bottle of Tylenol. "You'll probably need this, too, yeah?"

With another groan, Clay nods, "I feel like shit."

"Surprise, surprise," Rachel rolls her eyes, "Where's the flavor of the month hiding? Under the bed or in the closet?"

Clay flashes her a smirk, "Y'know I don't let 'em stay the night anymore."

"Yes. You are quite the gentleman," Rachel mocks as she heads into the kitchen to scavenge Clay's fridge for something edible. His fridge is pretty much classic bachelor: a few takeout containers, some condiments, no sign of anything resembling something healthy anywhere in sight. And, of course, the usual six-packs. "There's nothing to eat here, dipshit."

Clay slides on his boxers, stretches his arms over his head, "I need a shower." He says as he heads upstairs towards the bathroom.

This deters Rachel in no way. She follows him upstairs and into the bathroom. Clay's already under the hot water and she just closes the toilet seat and sits on top of it, magazine in hand.

"Where'd you leave the kid?" Clay asks as he lathers up his hair. He and Rachel act like they're in a frigging frat house and this is communal bathroom or something.

Rachel browses the pages of her magazine absentmindedly. "Jake took him to today's playgroup." She answers, pauses, "You know I'm here to check up on you. I've let you run amok for the past few months because I figured you needed to get it out of your system. Now enough's enough."

"What do you want me to do, Rae? B. told me to back off! She told me to leave her alone! Was I supposed to camp outside her house waiting for her to want me? I said 'I love you' and she said 'get lost'."

"What did you think was gonna happen, Clay?" Rachel scoffs, "You were just gonna say 'You're broken, I'm broken, isn't that so romantic?' and hope that it would turn into a relationship? You gotta put some more work in it."

Clay slides the crystal door and pokes his head out, "Fuck off," he tells her, "I stepped up—I told her how I felt about her, and she fuckin' shut me down. And for what, huh? For Lucas Scott, the married asshole who's already broken her heart?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Oh, boo-hoo. You got rejected. You thought you'd get her because that's what you do—I mean, Clay Evans always gets the girl, right?"

"Y'know what, fuck you!" Clay hisses, "It was never like that with her, it was _real_. It _is_ real. I...she wanted space, and I gave it to her." He sighs, closes the sliding door and lets the warm water run through his body. "What the fuck else was I supposed to do?"

Rachel sighs, "I get it. You're trying to what Brooke asked you to." And she can see it's kind of killing him. "Look, you and Brooke were the sad, lonely, lost, broken kids, that are very emotionally immature, but you thought that maybe it could work out anyways. And now that it isn't, it hurts."

"I just thought..." Clay lets his voice trail off, "We were both just these screw-up kids, and nobody really wants us, so we're just gonna look out for each other. That's how we became friends. Brooke's my best friend, Rae. And now I don't... I _miss_ her."

Rachel stands up and pokes her head into the shower, "Clay. I get it. Brooke wasn't just a fuck. I'm not saying you're not right for Brooke, I'm saying that it's complicated. B., she's... Look, a relationship should be two people coming together to forge something that's grown-up and equitable. And I think you both need to let go of your baggage before you can get to the point where doing that is possible."

"Something grown-up, huh?"

"Yes." Rachel answers.

Clay grins, "Well, we'll get there." He decides, smirks at the redhead. "Now get outta the shower—I know I'm hot, but you're taken, and I'm actually pretty much in love with this hot brunette so this can't happen."

"Real mature," Rachel rolls her eyes and closes the sliding door. She flushes the toilet before leaving just so she can hear Clay scream like a little bitch when the water scalds him.

"_MOTHERFUCK_!"

Rachel smirks—mission accomplished. That's what he gets for being such a smartass.

**-xx-**

Brooke is sitting on the floor behind the Clothes-Over-Bro's counter on Jackson's play mat. She easily entertains the toddler, tossing little plastic basketballs into a Little Tikes hoop.

She's been trying to wear him out since lunchtime in order to put him down for his afternoon nap, but he's been relentless. One more thing to prove he truly is Rachel Gatina's son.

Jax laughs heartily at landing in a shot.

"And the crowd goes wild!" Brooke cups her hands over her mouth, says it in her best announcer-voice. Then the bell at the door jingles, "Be with you in a minute." She calls out as she stands up. "Hi—" she cuts herself off when she spots Lucas Scott.

Lucas flashes her the infamous Scott-smirk. "Don't get mad," he starts, "Look, I know you said we're done, that it's not gonna happen with us. I heard it—"

"Then clearly you didn't _understand_ me." Brooke hisses, "You can_not_ keep doing this to me! I need you to stop popping up around here, screwing with my head!"

Lucas can't help the wry chuckle that escapes his lips, "Because of _Clay_?"

Brooke doesn't know if he really isn't getting it or if he's just looking to piss her off. "_Don't_." she warns.

"You and Clay, you... seem to need each other." Lucas says coolly, no trace of jealousy in his voice. "It's easy. It feels like love, but it isn't."

Brooke's not sure why this cuts her so much—she guesses it's because she still doesn't know _what_ she feels for Clay, and she just doesn't want Lucas to be right about it. "You have to stop. You gotta stop talking to me and checking on me and saying all this stuff." She sighs, "I love you—is that what you wanna hear?" she glares, "And I am always gonna love you in some way—you were my first love, you were a lot of my firsts." Brooke pauses, shakes her head, "But I don't _want_ to love you. In any way. I just...I want to be _happy_."

"You're right. I'm sorry." Lucas surrenders, leans over the counter, "But I can make you happy." He whispers, breaches the distance between them by softly pressing his lips to hers. It's the first time he's kissed her in _years_. And yet his mouth still conforms perfectly to hers. He pulls back, "You can't tell me there's nothing there." He's been waiting for this. He hasn't wanted his lips to touch hers while he was still technically married.

Brooke's hazel eyes are wide, and it's like she's frozen, "Lucas—"

"I'm single now—officially. From now on, it's not just talk between us. It's not me making empty promises. So I want to be clear here. Because I am _fighting_ for you—I'm still in love with you. I want another chance. I'm not giving up on us."

"Lucas..."

Lucas smiles, "You're wearing out my name there," he jokes, brushes a strand of hair off her face.

The bell jingles once more, and both pairs of eyes dart towards the door. At that second, Brooke feels like throwing up a little bit because there's Clay Evans.

_Fuck_. _My_. _Life_.

Clay merely puts on his best lopsided grin, "Well," he tucks his hands into his Diesel jeans' pockets, "Isn't this cozy."

Brooke blinks, her throat suddenly going dry, "Clay." it comes out ten times more raspy than usual.

Lucas focuses his eyes on Brooke, "I'm gonna go."

"Aw, so soon?" Clay mocks—he's wanted to get another shot at this douche since their last fight was cut short. "Bye-bye, Stretch."

Lucas' jaw tightens, his knuckles whiten, but he manages to do the mature thing: he walks away.

Clay walks over to Brooke, steps around the counter. "J-Gatina," he greets with smirk, picking the toddler up off the floor, "'Sup, little dude? Aunt B. treating you good?"

Jax nods eagerly. Brooke smiles, "I always treat him good. He's my favorite boy."

"Well, I don't mind being second, so long as it's to Jax."

Brooke kinks her eyebrows, "What makes you so sure you're even on the list?" And at that moment she is grateful that they can be normal right now. She's missed him—and like he'd said, it wasn't even the sex (though it was _mind-blowing_), it's her best friend.

The boy she can say anything to, the boy around who she can be herself, quite possibly the only person in the world who has never judged for any of her decisions, stupid or otherwise.

"'Cause I know I am." Clay hops up on the counter, the back of his heels kicking it, "I'm _me_."

Brooke narrows her eyes at him playfully for a second, then she wraps her arms around him. A smile spreads across her lips when she feels the familiar warmth of Clay's arms circling her petite frame. "I've _missed_ you," she admits.

Clay presses his lips to the top of her head, breathes her in, "Nowhere near as much as I've been missin' you, B." he tells her.

They pull apart, Brooke stands between his legs. "I know I've been pretty MIA." Clay admits, "You wanted space. And I just...I didn't want to crowd you. I know to which end of the fight or flight scale that tips you to." He pulls out a Toblerone bar from his pocket, "Peace offering—it's your favorite."

"You know me too well." Brooke grins.

Clay grins back at her, "I know I do." He lifts her chin gently, locks eyes with her, "Hey, I know I haven't been a great friend lately. I just...I didn't know what you wanted from me. And I didn't want to make things harder for you."

"I know." Brooke tells him, "We both needed a little distance, C."

Clay shakes his head, "That's no excuse. You're my best friend. No matter what, I don't walk away." He pauses, "You get that this is me saying sorry, right?"

This is not something Clay does often. In fact, Brooke's only ever heard him sincerely apologize once before. Brooke nods, "You get that I'm saying there's no need to."

"I'm apologizing anyway." Clay counters, winks at her.

Brooke rolls her eyes, kisses his scruffy cheek, "Wanna crash at my place?" she asks, "We can watch trashy movies and mock them endlessly."

"Tempting offer." Clay grins, "But I'm actually headed home. I'm trying to tidy the place up before the real state agent comes over."

Brooke furrows her brow, "You're selling your place?"

"My place is a glorified frat house." Clay tells her, "I'm getting a place in town. Somewhere I don't wake up thinking about lounging all day at the beach and screwing bikini-clad women."

"My, oh, my—is Clayton Evans really growing up this time?"

For the first time Clay's response is not an indignant scoff and a smartass remark. He just shrugs, "Maybe a little. I've heard it's not so bad."

Brooke smiles and kinks an eyebrow at the comment. She's not quite sure how that makes her feel.

**-xx-**

Carter Baizen stands on the curb in front of JFK Airport, cell phone in hand as he tips the bag boy.

"Fitz, I'm not fucking around here—I think Clay's in deep shit… Worried enough that I'm getting on a plane and heading down to Tree Hill, North Carolina… Look, your ticket's _paid for_—just get your ass to the airport."

It's pretty fucking serious, Carter figures. Clay usually likes to fuck around—women are his main hobby. But he's been on a four-month long fuck-a-thon now, ever since the whole thing with Brooke.

And that shit ain't normal—even for Clay Evans.

Ezra Fitz—Clay and Carter's other roommate from Dartmouth—wonders how bad can it really be?

The answer: well, it's bad enough that Carter Baizen feels the need to head down to Tree Hill for a visit.

**-xx-**

Carter slides the Ray-Bans down to the tip of his nose, takes a final glance at the beach. It's official: Tree Hill is too idyllic for his tastes. "It's like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting here." He mutters.

Ezra rolls his eyes, "It's a nice town. Quit being such a snob." He tells him as he knocks on the door. "Evs! Open up, it's us!"

Clay opens the door clad in his boxers, a towel around his shoulders as he dries his hair. "The fuck!" he greets with a grin, "What're you two doing here?" he asks, steps aside to let them inside.

The threesome settles in the living room—Clay's beach house really _is_ like the ultimate frat house: two-story dock, pool table, decked out stereo system, grill, ping pong table (which had doubled as a beer pong table more than once), etc.

"Seriously, guys," Clay starts, "Why're you here?"

In most ways, these were Clay's best friends. They'd met at college when they were just turning eighteen and they'd fucked around as much as possible—that's what your twenties are for. They didn't always keep in touch or see each other as much as they used to, but they always had each other's back.

Their roles were pretty well defined from early on.

Clay was the reckless one: the self-proclaimed Peter Pan determined to never grow up.

Carter was the untamable one: the one with the perpetual inability to stay in one place.

Ezra was the responsible one: his job consisted of grounding his knuckleheaded two best friends down to reality. It was a tough job, but _someone _had to do it.

And even after all these years, they hadn't grown out of them. At least not entirely. Especially when they got together.

Carter purses his lips, focuses his eyes on the glass of Scotch in his hands.

Ezra scoffs, "Seriously." He rolls his eyes, "Clay, we're here because Baze is convinced something's wrong with you. He thinks this girl Brooke has screwed you up permanently or something."

"Dude!" Carter slaps Ezra's arm, he shakes his head, "Clay, we're just concerned here. I get that B. is a great girl, but you've on a drink-a-thon/fuck-a-thon for the past few months and it's enough to get _me_ worried, so you know you're being overkill with it."

Clay runs his fingers through his hair, "It's not like that anymore!" he protests. "Look, I was a little fucked up before, but I'm...over it now."

Carter scoffs, "_That_'s convincing."

Ezra rolls his eyes. This is going to take forever if he doesn't expedite the process. "Okay. Enough. If you don't wanna talk about it, I'm calling in backup." he warns.

Clay narrows his eyes. He _knows_ what backup means. "You wouldn't."

Carter follows suit, pulls out his phone, "Dude, we have your sisters on speed-dial." He says easily, turns to Ezra, "You call Kathleen and Nancy, I'll dial Lizzie and Amelia?" he offers.

"Dickheads," Clay snatches the phones out of their hands, "You do _not_ get to play the sisters card every time I do something you don't like."

"You do stuff I don't like all the time." States Ezra calmly, "I only pull the sisters card when you're doing stuff that's _fucked up_."

Clay groans, "I _was_ messed up before, but I'm not now. You came a day late. Someone else already kicked my ass into gear. I'm me again." He jumps up, waves his arms around as if to show this, "You can rest easy, and catch the next flight out of here."

Ezra scrunches up his nose, "Yeah, this place is a sty, you were drinking yourself into a stupor until yesterday, but everything's okay."

Clay groans, "Ugh, fine! You two wanna stay here an babysit me for a days—whatever. It's your time that's gonna be wasted." He grabs a paper and tosses it at them, "Least you can do is help me look for a new place. I'm moving."

That alone is enough to shock Carter and Ezra. If they know one thing, it's that Clay loves his beachside bachelor pad.

And it'd take something pretty major for him to want to give it all up.


	9. That's Me Trying

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**_That's Me Trying_**

"Here's one of the things I learned that morning: if you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning. It's like that old riddle about a tree falling in a forest, and whether it makes a sound if there's no one around to hear it. You keep drawing a line further away, crossing it every time. That's how people end up stepping off the edge of the earth. You'd be surprised how easy it is to bust out of orbit, to spin out to a place where no one can touch you."

—Lauren Oliver

**-xx-**

Haley walks into her brunette friend's house, "Brooke!" she calls out, "I'm here, and I brought the ice!"

"Kitchen!" Brooke stands over the kitchen island expertly salting the margarita glasses. "Throw some of that in the blender, I already poured everything else in."

They are a having a girls' day in. It apparently includes day-drinking.

"Alright," Haley relents. She thinks drinking before noon isn't exactly healthy, but what the hell? Once in a while won't kill her. Truthfully, she's worried. About Brooke. About Clay. About Lucas. It's all a mess lately. Things are due to settle down soon, though. At least she hopes so.

"Margarita time!" exclaims Brooke as he hands her a glass, "Cheers, Hales." She says, clinging them together.

Haley takes a small sip—that is one _strong_ margarita. "Brooke, what's going on? What is this?" she asks, "I mean, not that I don't appreciate the invite, but I don't usually come to the day drinking parties. This is more of a Rachel thing."

This elicits a chuckle from the brunette, "I wanted to talk. It's...a lot of things have been going on, and I haven't had time to process—I haven't wanted to process. I mean, we're at that age, right?" Brooke starts, slides herself down to sit on the floor, her back resting against the kitchen island. "Future. Families. Babies. That's what we're supposed to do, right? I mean, not you 'cause you did the whole marriage-and-a-kid thing before you turned nineteen, but for those of us who didn't jump the gun in high school...it's that time. We're closer to thirty than we are to twenty now, you know? It's supposed to be the time we settle down." she shakes her head, "Except I can't. I can't make a relationship work. I can't resolve my baggage. I can't...make a choice."

Despite how things may seem, Brooke Davis is the underdog—always has been. She's a pretty girl. Her parents expected nothing of her, her teachers didn't either. And all throughout her teens, the dynamic between Brooke and Peyton had been defined by a clear imbalance: Brooke wants something, but it's Peyton who always effortlessly gets it. Lucas, a family, a baby—Peyton got it all. (Sure, she's recently _lost_ it all, but still.)

But Brooke always bounces back. She's a glass-half-full kind of girl. But more than that, she's selfless. Willing to sacrifice her own happiness so that the people she cares about can get theirs. Like that saying. If you love something, set it free. But have you ever noticed that the things and people you set free never actually come back to us?

Brooke Davis knows that reality all too well.

And so, when you take that fighter nature away from Brooke Davis, then _this_ is what you get: A girl currently swinging in the breeze of indecision.

Haley shakes her head, "Is this about Lucas? About Clay?" she asks, "I know it's been hard lately. And with Lucas back it's...complicated."

"He kissed me." Brooke says, "Lucas kissed me. He keeps popping up. Everywhere. All the time. Even in my dreams." She sighs, "But all of this happened so long ago. I'm saying we've already done this, and he and I _didn't_ end up together. I don't want to go through that again. And then there's Clay and he is my friend and he _cares_ about me. I can't hurt him. But now everything's split up: there's how things were before—before Clay and Lucas told me they love me, before things got so screwed up—and there's the after—after their ill timed declarations, now things are awkward and complicated and I don't know what to do." She locks eyes with Haley, "Tell me what to do."

Haley sighs, "You know what I miss? I miss the Brooke Davis who got kicked down by life and then would kick its ass back just as hard—scratch that: you kicked its ass even harder." Haley explains. "That Brooke is still in there somewhere. You just gotta let her out. That's what you need to do."

"And if I can't find her?"

Haley slides down on the floor next to Brooke, "You will." She assures her, "It takes time. When old feelings resurface, it takes time to sort everything out. But you will."

Brooke sighs, "Promise?"

Haley nods, wraps an arm around the brunette's shoulders. "Yeah." Brooke leans her head on the copper-haired mother's shoulder, "I promise." And Haley rests her head atop of Brooke's.

Brooke just hopes Haley is right. (On the bright side, Haley usually is.)

**-xx-**

Nathan, Lucas and Jamie are hanging out together.

It's boys' day out.

They're hitting golf-balls off the TRIC roof.

It's Nathan's idea of how to unwind. Jamie even has his own little putting green.

(It reminds Lucas a little bit too much of high school and all the time he spent on the top of Karen's Café with Haley. It feels oddly comforting.)

"I don't know what's wrong with me." Lucas says as he hits another ball with a nine iron. All in all it is pretty relaxing.

Nathan chuckles, "And here I thought Skills had narrowed that one down for you." He jokes.

Lucas frowns, "Funny, Chuckles," he says, "I'm talking about Brooke... I'm desperate. I'm acting desperate." He shakes his head, "It's not a good look on me."

"Nobody finds pathetic charming." Nathan laughs, "And anyway, I don't know why you're so surprised about this. You have no game—you've never had any game with women."

Lucas scoffs, clearly offended, "What the hell are you talking about? I've had plenty of girlfriends."

Nathan shakes his head, "Look, I'm not saying you don't have a history with women. I'm saying you have no _game_—you've never needed it. Once they're into you, women love it when you show up when you say you will. But you can't be crowding them when they're still thinking about it. You've never had to do that before. In fact, I don't think you've ever actively pursued a woman that way—you pinned for Peyton all through middle but never acted on it, you got with B. but she was the one who made the first move, Anna's a special case—she was bi or gay, I never caught up on that gossip. Then there was Lindsay who was just..._there_." the raven-haired Scott lists off, "Case in point: you have got no game."

They pause to hit off another round.

"It was all a lot easier when I was single." Lucas concludes.

Nathan smirks, "You were hardly ever single," he rightly assesses.

Lucas purses his lips—it's pretty much the truth so he won't even try to argue it. Instead he says, "So you're...saying I don't know how to pick up women?"

Jamie pipes in then, "You can't crowd them." he says with all the confidence of a seasoned professional at the subtle art of picking up women. "You _gotta_ let 'em come to you, Uncle Lucas."

Lucas stares at his young nephew with a look of incredulity. Is this really happening to him right now? Nathan smirks proudly, "That's right. You just got served by a seven-year-old." He assures his older brother, winks at his son. "Up top, Jimmy-Jam."

Jamie high-fives Nathan, makes another hole-in-one—he is _that_ good.

"Okay." Lucas is still pretty incredulous, "This is officially _humiliating_ for me." He decides.

Jamie eyes his uncle empathetically, "You have to play it cool." He advises.

"Yeah." Nathan backs his son up, "Look, you and Brooke are gonna be seeing each other—too much in common: you're my brother, she's a friend, you're Jamie's godparents, you share the same social circle. It'll happen naturally. Give her some time. Listen to the professional," he nudges Jamie, "And she will come to you on her own terms. And even if the answer is a resounding no, then at least you'll know, right?"

Lucas sighs and says nothing because they both made a good point. He's tried being there. Maybe it's time to try giving her some space. "So...you're rooting for me and Brooke then?" he asks.

"Hmm." Nathan purses his lips in thought, "I don't know. You are my brother. But then again Clay's my best friend." he shrugs, "It's kind of a between-the-rock-and-the-hard-place situation, y'know."

Lucas lets out a wry chuckle, "Yeah," he says, "I know."

(He's just not sure if he's ready to know either way. He feels like he just got Brooke back in his life and he's not quite ready to lose her. He doesn't think he'll ever be ready to lose her.)

**-xx-**

Clay, Carter and Ezra follow the realtor into the old building, only half-listening to what the woman is explaining about the place until she asks, "Well, gentlemen, what do you think of the property?"

Clay tucks his hands in his jeans' pockets, looks around. "I like it." he decides.

The place has plenty of space and it's certainly different—which Clay definitely prefers. But more than that, he's sure Rachel will mock it endlessly (which is her proclivity when she likes something), Jax and Jamie would love it (though he'd have to chord off the fire pole until Jax got a little older). And then there's Brooke. He's sure she'll love it, too.

"Dude—it's got a fireman's pole." Carter interjects seriously, "This place is AWESOME!"

Clay chuckles, "That's good enough for me." He says, "I'm sold."

Ezra rolls his eyes, "Please, Baze. You only like it 'cause it makes you think of a strip club." He comments, then cuts his eyes to Clay, "So much for getting a 'grown-up' place."

Clay rubs the back of his head. Ezra is always too fucking strict about everything. "Hey, come on," he prompts, "It's in the numbered streets, it's got killer house potential, it has...original oak floors. And it's a _historic_ building." he defends, "Y'know I like classics."

Ezra sighs—yeah, the place isn't that bad. It actually could be a pretty amazing house. But he looks at the wide empty space and can see Clay's bigger and better party-pad. "Yeah, I know." Then again Clay does seem to be intent in changing his usual ways, and he seems more mature in most ways. And he is _not_ their babysitter anymore. They're all adults here. "And you're right. It is a great place—fireman's pole and all." He sighs, "If you like it and it feels right, you should get it."

Carter lays a hand upon Clay's shoulder, "Evs, you gotta get this place," he tells him, "More than enough room for a pool table, and it has a frigging fireman's pole. It'll be a killer time every time I come visit."

Ezra shakes his head, "Baze." He starts, "In all the years we've been friends, you've only visited any place either of us have been living, like, two maybe three times."

"Yeah, we usually have to come to you." Clay adds, "Like the time we had to get to Sri Lanka with the copy of your passport and proof that you are, in fact, an American citizen. Or when we had to fly to Santorini to bail your ass out of Greek jail."

Ezra chuckles, nudges Clay, "Yeah. But nothing's ever going to beat 2004, Ko Sanh Road—"

"Hey!" Carter raises a hand in protest. "No jokes about Ko Sanh Road. Not now. Not ever." He warns.

All these years later, and he still hates it anytime anyone mentions his trip to Bangkok.

"My point—Clay, you should get the house. Fitz, you should shut up about it."

The real state woman looks beyond uncomfortable watching them argue about this back and fort. "Um, I'll take it, miss." Clay tells her with his best charming grin, "Any chance you can get me in here by tonight?"

A few hours later, Clayton Evans was officially the owner of his very own place. Of course this meant a housewarming party—which they'd throw tonight just because they could.

"Hey," Clay nudges Ezra, "Why didn't you bring your girl down here with you? Don't look so surprised. Y'know Hardy is a gossip. He said you were going out with a high-school girl?"

Carter snorts, "Goody two shoes Fitz is dating a student?" he asks in disbelief.

"Not anymore." Ezra glares, "We're...broken up."

"You did not tell us you are single. Fitz," Carter smirks, throws an arm around Clay's shoulders, "it's like you don't know us at all sometimes. Breakups demand a night out. Strippers not optional—is there even a strip club in this happy suburban town?"

Clay rolls his eyes, "No. But there's a place in Raleigh. What'd you rent? We can drive there." He's not that interested in the idea of hitting a strip club, but he knows there will be no deterring Carter.

Besides, someone needs to be there to make sure that Carter doesn't get Ezra tossed in jail like did the last time they went out.

**-xx-**

Jake, Rachel, Jax, Chris and Brooke sit in the brunette's kitchen.

Rachel's hard a work finishing up breakfast. ('Cause God knows no one wants to trust Brooke with the actual cooking.) "Waffles should be ready soon." She announces as she closes the waffle iron.

"Ya hear that," Jake tickles Jax, "Chocolate chip waffles coming up!"

This experience is new to him, taking care of a little boy. Jenny's always been more or less a tomboy so she usually prefers Superman to Barbie, but it's still different. And he likes it, actually. Likes being with Rachel. Likes taking care of Jax. Likes being in a relationship that feels real for the first time in years.

Brooke pouts, "Why won't you let me help!" she whines.

Breakfast is _her_ idea and it's _her_ house, and they're all set on not letting her do anything. Even Chris Keller, who's quite possible ten times more inept than her, is sure that she shouldn't be allowed to touch the food while it's still in the process of being cooked.

"'Cause you + cooking = big ass kitchen fire." Explains Chris Keller matter-of-factly as he shoots Brooke with a ping-pong ball gun.

Brooke grabs the ping-pong ball and bounces it off Chris Keller's head, "Why is he here?" she asks, "This was supposed to be Brooke-Rachel-Jax-Jake time, _not_ Chris-Keller-is-a-pain-in-the-ass time!"

"He's...Jay's best friend." The redhead shrugs, "I don't know, he's like a stray or whatever." Rachel glares at Chris Keller after he nails her in the back of the head with a ping-pong ball. "Babe." she cuts her eyes to Jake, "Seriously. Come on, I can only deal with him for so long before the need to hurt him becomes too strong."

Rachel is now sure: There is nothing more annoying that ping-pong-ball-gun-wielding Chris Keller.

Jake grins, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I like him, either." Chris Keller shoots him with another ping-pong ball. "Okay, _not_ okay. Put it away."

Chris Keller laughs, "What?" he asks innocently, "It's addicting."

"Put it away before my girl wrestles you to the ground." Jake warns, "Trust me—you do_ not_ wanna go there."

Chris pouts, but puts sets the gun down on the table. _Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke_. "Fine," he mutters, "I hate you all."

"Trust me," Brooke starts, "the feeling's mutual."

Rachel nods, "Amen to that!"

"Ooh, I scored free backstage passes to the Plain White T's show down in Wilmington while I was in L.A." Jake announces out of the blue.

Rachel furrows her brow, "And the non sequitur award goes to..."

Jake chuckles, "I just remembered." He explains, "Can you get a sitter? It'll be date night." He nods towards Brooke and Chris, "You two can tag along. I got plenty."

Rachel grins, pecks his lips, "Sure," she tells him, "Can Clay come, too?"

Jake discreetly cuts his eyes to Brooke. He's aware that his girlfriend wants it to be Brooke and Clay in the end—Rachel's made it abundantly clear that she does not like nor trust Lucas. "Yeah. Of course."

It's then that their cell phones go off, a text from Clay. Rachel reads it aloud from her cell.

**From: Clay Evans**

_housewarming party 2nite.  
><em>_4915 Ocean Avenue._

Brooke furrows her brow, "What is this?" she asks, "Did Clay get a new place already?"

"Guess so." Rachel smirks, "We can tell him about the concert tonight then."

Jake says, "Sure." He pauses, "Hey, maybe we can get Chris a girl, too. Make it a triple date," he offers.

Brooke and Rachel exchange glances, "Like we'd ever subject any woman to that abject horror!" Brooke snorts.

"Fuck all of you!" Chris Keller glares, "The Keller doesn't need your help—I can get women on my own."

This elicits laughter from everyone, but its Jax who grabs the ping-pong ball gun and nails Chris Keller right in the forehead.

It's official. Jax is the coolest kid ever.

**-xx-**

The new place is a hit. Or at least it's enough to get everyone talking.

Nathan and Jamie slide down the fire pole three times, and even Haley gives it a try once.

Ezra is his usual polite and charming self, and Carter more or less behaves around the company.

Nathan and Haley grill them endlessly for stories about college Clay.

Everyone brings a gift, but its Carter's which causes an impression.

"Condom Cookie Jar." Clay says matter-of-factly. Leave it to Carter to bring the most inappropriate gift ever, "Wow. Thanks."

Carter flashes a grin, "Something nice for the kitchen."

"Well...that about beats everybody else's present." Brooke says with a chuckle. She's always liked Carter, and Ezra is pretty cool, too. She has no idea what a serious, down-to-earth guy like him is doing hanging around with two knuckleheads like Clay and Carter.

Clay grabs Brooke's hand, whispers in her ear, "Come with me," he prompts, dragging her towards the fire escape.

Meanwhile, Carter watches intently as Rachel slides down the fire pole.

Ezra laughs knowingly, "Okay, I don't even know the redhead, but even I can tell you shouldn't try to go there." He warns Carter.

"I'm a guy." Carter states matter-of-factly, "I _live_ there."

It takes less than five minutes until Rachel slaps him. Ezra grins, "Told ya."

**-xx-**

Clay and Brooke get up on the roof of the building, bottle of wine in hand.

Brooke takes a swig from the bottle and passes is to Clay, "It's a great place, Clay." she says, "And a nice roof, which is always a plus."

"Yeah." Clay nods, pauses for a second, "Brooke, tell me what happened. On the roof at TRIC, that day I was away." he asks her gently.

Brooke blinks—she wasn't expecting Clay to ask about that. "I...got drunk, and I was bored. I got up on the edge of the roof. I think I wanted to be invincible. Lucas, he...Lucas talked me down. He took care of me."

Clay sighs, "Brooke," he starts, "Lucas, he's not a bad guy—I mean, he's a total douche—but he is not a bad guy—"

Brooke shakes her head, cuts him off, "Lucas has broken my heart too many times." She whispers, "I'm not sure I can trust him."

"Hey," Clay lifts her chin up gently, "Just because people do horrible things...it doesn't always mean they're horrible people. Lucas took care of you that night. He obviously cares. What I'm saying is...I won't hold it against you. If it's him, if you choose him," he sighs, "I won't hold it against you."

Brooke kinks her eyebrows, "Why're doing this, Clay?"

"I love you, Brooke. And not just in an I-want-to-be-with-you way, but as my best friend—I love you. And I'm not telling you this right now to get you. I'm saying it because I think it's important to tell the people you love that you love them while they can hear you. Sometimes, I think that we waste our words and we waste our moments and we don't take the time to say the things that are in our hearts when we have the chance." Clay rests his forehead against Brooke's, "So what I'm saying is: I just want you to be happy."

Brooke cuddles up to his chest and Clay wraps his arms around her, "Yeah." Brooke whispers, "I want to be happy, too."

**-xx-**

Brooke walks into the Naley house, "Haley!" she calls out, "I got the emergency text. I'm here!"

Haley comes down the stairs taking them two at a time, "Brooke. Thank God." she says, a look of relief on her face. "Um, kids are upstairs in Jamie's room."

Brooke furrows her brow, "Um, kids? What's going on? Your text just said need help, come on over." she asks, clearly confused by the situation.

"Oh. Right. Nathan's out of town for a conference, and I was supposed to stay in today, but Chris just called and I have to get down to the studio, and Jake's down there, too." Haley spits out the overload of information in under five seconds flat, "Long story short, I need a babysitter."

Brooke chuckles, "Fine, no problem. Where's Jamie at?"

Haley breathes out a sigh, "In his room with Sawyer. If you get hungry there's plenty of food in the kitchen and there's money stashed under the cookie jar in case you wanna order in."

"Whoa!" Brooke exclaims, grips Haley's arm to stop her, "What do you mean Sawyer? Sawyer _Scott_?" she shakes her head, "C'mon, Hales!"

Haley sighs, grabs Brooke's arms and looks her in the eye, "Tigg, relax. I'll be back in time to drop her home. Okay, relax."

"Ugh," Brooke groans, "Fine. Go. I'll watch the kids."

With that, Haley runs out the door. Brooke sighs and runs up the stairs, "Jamie, Sawyer!" she calls out, "Ya better watch out 'cause the Brookie Monster's comin' for ya!"

It's five hours later and they've played tickle games, catch the Brookie Monster, hide-and-seek, and every single video game in the house—everything from Xbox to PS3 to Wii—when the they finally settle for watching a movie.

(Brooke secretly wonders if they're sneaking Red Bulls or something because those kids will _not_ tire out.)

They cuddle up on the couch with Cokes and popcorn, and Brooke pops in _Toy Story_, which is still one of her personal favorites.

They're not that far into the movie when Brooke hears the front door open up. "J-Luke, Sawyer!" Brooke recognizes the voice immediately. It's Lucas Scott.

The brooding blonde walks into the living room and stops when he sees the threesome cuddled up on the couch. "Oh..." he says, "I didn't know you where here, Brooke. I thought Haley was watching them."

"Yeah. I know the feeling. I thought Haley was gonna be here to take Sawyer home." Brooke answers with an uneasy chuckle, "Guess we were both wrong."

Lucas nods, tucks his hands into his jeans' pockets, "Looks like." He agree, "Um, I guess they're at the meeting for the label and apparently it's running late. I told Peyton I'd pick up Sawyer. Anyway, I'll get out of your hair now."

Brooke's iPhone beeps, a new text message.

**From: Dopey**

_sorry honey. C can't come out 2 play 2nite. _  
><em>its boys night at strip club. <em>

Brooke furrows her brow in confusion, reads the message twice before hitting the off button. "Um, no. Stay." she says suddenly, "I mean, we've got two more Toy Stories to get through, and there's plenty of popcorn." she tickles Sawyer's belly playfully, "S., you wanna stick around to see the end, right?" At that the toddler nods and giggles excitedly.

"Yeah, you gotta do it, Uncle Lucas," adds Jamie, "Can't stop the movie marathon."

"See. Sawyer and Jamie want you to stay." Brooke says authoritatively, "Besides, this one's like the Energizer Bunny—nothing wears her out."

Lucas laughs, "Yeah." he sits down on the couch next to them, "And she never falls asleep without this," he pulls out a purple monkey from Sawyer's bag.

Brooke smiles, her dimples poking out, "Oh my god," she exclaims, grabs the stuffed animal out of the brooder's hands, "Is this my purple monkey? The one I gave to you?" Lucas nods, and Brooke laughs, "I can't believe you've kept this all this time—and that you actually gave it to Sawyer!"

"Of course I kept it." Lucas says as if the answer were obvious. "You gave it to me, and I know how much it means to you. It was Sawyer's first toy. She really loves it. Can't fall asleep without it."

"That's sweet." Brooke tells hims, still smiling. "So stay. Two more movies to go."

Lucas nods, "Sure. I'd love to."

**-xx-**

Haley walks into her house at fifteen past ten. She's only mildly worried that Brooke hasn't answered any of her calls. When she enters the living room she halts, watches the scene in front of her with curious eyes. Jamie is curled up in Brooke's lap and Sawyer is curled in Lucas' lap. Lucas has an arm around Brooke's shoulders, the brunette cuddled up to his chest.

The copper-haired mother considers her options for a second, wonders if she should wake them up. Instead, she picks up a throw blanket and covers them up.

Haley will not meddle. Not in this.

_Let them resolve their own issues when they wake up_.

**-xx-**

The threesome of friends arrives in Raleigh sometime after eight. Of course, like all of their plans, this one is half-assed. It's too early, they don't quite know where the strip club is, and all but Carter think this is a bad idea.

Still, none of those things deter them.

"Lets get some drinks first." Carter decides, "Pre-game. There's gotta be a bar _somewhere_ around here—jackpot." He grins, just his chin towards the neon sign that reads DIGGER'S BAR.

They pay the cover charge. It's an easy enough crowd. The threesome grabs some empty stools. Watch as the bartender lines up highball glasses full of beer, shots pilled up on top of them like a pyramid. Bartender lights them up in a row and drops then into the beer-filled glasses.

Chants of _chugchugchugchug _emanate from the crowd gathered around to watch the drinks. The group of girls down them, choking a little at the taste.

"What're those?" Clay asks, his curiosity aroused.

Bartender flips a bar rag over his shoulder, "Flaming DPs." He answers, "You want a round?"

"Oh yeah!" Carter taps the bar, "Round for us, and another for the ladies." He winks at the group of girls seated a few stools down from them. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. We got this round."

Ezra sighs deeply, hangs his head in resignation, "So...what's the DP stand for?"

"Dr. Pepper." Bartender says as he lights up the next round, drops the shot glasses in, "Flaming Dr. Pepper."

They chug down their drinks quickly. "Wow. It really tastes like a Dr. Pepper."

"No shit Sherlock," Clay tells Ezra, "Hence the name. C'mon. Drink up. This night's for you."

**-xx-**

The strip club is pretty typical: booze, naked girls, stripper poles, and lap dances.

Predictably, Ezra hates it. He finds it demeaning, and wonders why he always lets himself dragged into these things.

Normally Clay would be having a blast, talking up the strippers and conning his way into free lap dances. But this time around he's not enjoying himself as he would've once before. He's surprised to find that he is completely uninterested.

Carter, however, is completely in his element. Drink in hand and two half-naked women on his lap—this is what he does best. He dismisses the strippers with a pat on their butts and eyes his best friends, "Seriously, this night's supposed to be for both of you." Carter scoffs, "To show you what it was like _before_ you turned into lovesick idiots."

Clay frowns, "I'm not a lovesick idiot."

"Save it. I get that you're in love with Brooke," Carter says, "But...well, it's not like she wants to be with you. At least not right now. Nothing wrong with a little fun—with your friends here to have your back and because you want to, not just to drown your sorrows in a bottle of Scotch."

Clay furrows his brow, "You _know_?" he asks surprised.

"When are you gonna figure out that I know everything?" Carter smirks. "Look, you can tell yourself that you just want Brooke to be all right as many times as you want, but the truth is it'll break you when she doesn't pick you."

Clay scoffs, "Why are you so sure she's not gonna want me?"

Carter rolls his eyes, "There's a reason that the longest river in the world De-Nial." he tells him matter-of-factly, "And guys like us, we don't get the happy ending."

Ezra slaps Carter upside the head, "What he means is, if it doesn't work out, we don't want you to be disappointed." he amends Carter's words smoothly.

"Right. What Ez just said." Carter shrugs it off, "We just don't want you to fall into a big black whole of self-pity if it doesn't turn out how you want it to." he pauses when he feels a phone vibrating in his pocket and pulls it out, "Oh, this is yours." he hands Clay the phone. "Some chick texted you earlier. I told her you were occupied."

Clay sees his screen flashing_ 1 missed call from Dimples_ from about three hours ago. "What chick?" he asks, worry creeping into his voice.

"Uh, some quaint little nickname," Carter answers, "Dot or Freckle or—"

"—Dimples?"

"Yes! That's it."

Clay groans, clutches his cell phone tightly, "Dimples is _Brooke_!" he explains, "What the hell did you tell her, man?"

"Uh, something about you being busy tonight 'cause it was guy's night at the strip club..." Carter mutters rubbing the back of his head.

_Fuck_. Clay buries his face in his hands, "_Fuck_!" And now it really is fucked up because he knows what Brooke is going to think when she reads that text.

Fuck.


	10. The Reluctant Heroes Step Up

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

The Reluctant Heroes Step Up

"We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it's our job to invent something better."

―Chuck Palahniuk

**-xx-**

Nathan wakes up sometime after ten a.m. He walks downstairs, the smell of pancakes calling him from the kitchen. "Mornin', gorgeous," he places his hands on his wife's hips, presses a kiss to her neck, "I got in pretty late last night, you were already sleeping."

"I know. I hate it when you have to catch the red eye." Haley pecks his lips softly, serves up a plate of pancakes to Jamie and Sawyer, "Eat up, you two."

Jamie takes a big bite out of his pancakes, "Yeah," he agrees, "I hate it when you get home too late, Dad. Momma's right."

Nathan smirks, "Your momma's always right, son." he tells him, gives him a morning kiss. He blows on Sawyer's cheek playfully eliciting giggles from the girl, "And a good morning to you, too, kid."

Haley smiles at her husband's antics, "James, how about you two take those upstairs," she offers, "Have breakfast in bed?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jamie rolls his eyes knowingly, "Grown-up talk." he helps his baby cousin off her stool, "I get it." He then leads Sawyer upstairs.

Nathan takes Haley's coffee cup, "Too smart for his own good." he takes a sip. "What exactly is going on in our living room right now?" Their moves are practically synchronized together as they tiptoe to sneak a peak at Brooke and Lucas still asleep, cuddled up together in their living room couch.

"I came home and found them like that," Haley explains as she steals back her coffee cup, "Sawyer and Jamie were cuddled up with them, too." she adds, "Kids woke up early, but those two... They've been passed out together since yesterday. And they look so...peaceful, I guess. I didn't want to wake them."

Nathan sighs, "Why are my spidey-senses tingling right now?" They hear noise coming from the living room and peek their heads in once more.

Brooke and Lucas are up and at them, they yawn and stretch their arms over their head, "Geez, it's morning already?"

"Guess we fell asleep." Lucas answers easily. He flashes her a smile, and she can't help but to smile back at him. They've done this before, falling asleep together on the couch. It feels like...intimacy.

Nathan raises an eyebrow skeptically, "Uh, _morning_," he says.

Haley subtly elbows her husband in his ribcage, "There's breakfast in the kitchen."

"By the way, Chris and I are singing at TRIC tonight!" Haley informs them enthusiastically, "We've been working on a bunch of songs, and we're gonna do a local show. Kind of testing it out, see if people like it. I already got tickets for everyone."

Nathan presses a kiss to the side of his wife's head, "Babysitter's all set up, babe." he says, "Rachel's leaving Jax here, too. In case you wanna add Sawyer to the list."

"Yeah, thanks," Lucas nods, "I'll definitely be there."

Brooke grins, "Me, too!"

"Good!" Haley pulls out some VIP passes and hands them over, but holds a third one in her hand, "Oh...um, Brooke? Do you wanna give Clay his ticket?"

Nathan can instantly read the hesitation on Brooke's face, "You know what, I can do it," he says, takes the ticket out of Haley's hand, "I'm supposed to meet him today to talk about yesterday's conference anyways." Brooke winks at him conspiratorially, mouths him a _thank-you_.

Nathan winks back, gives her the nod. He glances at the watch on his wrist, "And I'm already late. See ya later, honey," he pecks Haley's lips, hugs Brooke goodbye and fist-bumps Lucas before heading out.

Haley clears her throat, "So, tonight at seven," she says, glances between Brooke and Lucas, "You two want some breakfast?"

Brooke checks the watch on the copper-haired mother's wrist, "Ugh, crap! I'm late, I gotta go." she says as she ties her hair up in messy pony tail, "But I will be there at seven."

"Um, hey," Lucas holds her gaze for a moment, "You wanna head down there together? I can pick you up."

Brooke flashes him a smile, "Yeah. Sure." she answers, steals a piece of toast from Haley's plate, "I will see you _both_ tonight, then."

**-xx-**

It's officially Carter and Ezra's last day in Tree Hill. They've done what they came here to do (and then some). Clay was all right, more or less, and Carter had stirred up enough drama in his short stay in town. Their flights leave in three hours, and they're helping Clay unpack what's left of his boxes before heading off to the airport.

"This one's clothes," Ezra says as he hands Carter a box, "Empty it out in that dresser."

Carter does as he is asked, opens up the top drawer and something catches his eye. He sees the little blue box tied with a white satin ribbon and immediately recognizes it. He is a born and bred New Yorker from the Upper East Side—he can identify a Tiffany's box from a twenty feet distance. "Damn." he takes out the box, turns to Ezra, "Check this out, Fitz." he says, opening it.

Ezra glances at it and lets out a low whistle, "Jesus. Talk about shitting it up for Clay, Baze."

Carter Baizen finds himself at a loss for words. Finally he sighs, "Clay," he starts his eyes wide, "I-I'm sorry. I had no idea you were_ this_ serious about Brooke."

Clay comes out of the bedroom, sees Carter with the box and rolls his eyes, "It's not _for_ Brooke," he snatches the box out of his friend's hands, "I mean, it's not _not_ for Brooke, either. It's..." he pauses, sighs, "Last year, my Mom sat me down and gave this long talk about me finding the right woman and settling down and all that stuff, and then she gave me the ring. It was my grandmother's. I don't know, she just said that when I find _the one_, I should give it to her. It's been living in that drawer ever since." he opens his dresser's top drawer and stashes the ring in there again.

Clay's hands rest atop the now closed drawer, his cobalt-blue eyes glossy as he gazes into midair thoughtfully. Carter and Ezra exchange glances for a seconds. "And do you think Brooke is?" Ezra asks calmly, "The one, I mean. Do you think Brooke's the girl you want to be with forever?"

"Clay!" Nathan's voice calls from downstairs, "It's me, man, open up."

_Saved by the motherfucking bell_, Clay thinks. "That's work." he answers instead, "You two try to behave, huh,"

"Hey, dude," Clay greets Nathan, "I didn't catch the interviews last night, sorry. But tell me how everything went."

Nathan raises an eyebrow, "It went fine. You know me. Said all the right things, smiled at all the right times. It was gravy." he answers easily, "What happened to you last night? And why do I get the distinct feeling that Brooke is avoiding you?"

"Ugh, it's complicated," Clay groans, "Look, Ez broke things off with his girlfriend, and Carter wanted a guy's night. So we headed off to Raleigh, hit a couple of bars, checked out a strip club," he tells him, "Apparently Carter had my phone when B. texted about getting together and Carter answered like a dickhead, saying we were off at a strip club."

Nathan nods in understanding, "Explains why she didn't wanna come over to drop this off," he hands Clay the VIP pass for tonight's show, "Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

"B.'s avoiding me now?"

Nathan sighs, hands tucked in his jeans' pockets, "Look, I told ya I don't wanna get in the middle of this. I'm not gonna play spy for you like we're in middle school or something." he says firmly, "You need to talk to Brooke."

Clay chuckles at Nathan's words, "Yeah. You're right. Fine." he says, "Thanks, man."

"It's what I'm here for." Nathan bumps shoulders with him, heads towards the door, "And start doing your job, man. At least TiVo the freaking conferences so you can _pretend_ you're doing something." he jokes.

"Will do."

Carter and Ezra poke their head out of the bedroom then, "So...B. didn't think the text was a funny joke?"

"No," Clay glares, "B. clearly did not." he picks up his coat, "I'm gonna do damage control. I'll be back in time to drop you two off, alright?"

Ezra nods, "Yeah. That's fine. Um, we'll finish up here."

"Thanks." Clay says half-heartedly, he slides down the fire pole and heads outside.

**-xx-**

Clay arrives at the Clothes-Over-Bro's store bearing coffee. "Mocha double latte, extra foam," he flashes an endearing lopsided grin, slides the coffee cup over the counter to wards the brunette.

Brooke reluctantly takes the paper coffee cup, doesn't sip it. "What's up, Clay?"

"Wow. Okay. Um, you're mad." Clay takes a breath, "Look, the whole text thing was just a stupid misunderstanding."

"Clay." Brooke stops him, and there's an eery calm to her voice, "You are not my boyfriend. You don't owe me any explanations. If you want to go to a strip club, then you can go. It is not any of my business."

Clay can sense the passive aggressiveness radiating off of the petite brunette. "Brooke, seriously." he says, "I know you're upset. And it's fine—"

"—No. I get it." Brooke's voice is firm, "You tell me that Lucas isn't a bad guy, and that I can go be with him. And then you go off to a strip club. I think the message in that is pretty clear."

Clay groans, "It _wasn_'t like that."

"Save it, Clay." Brooke practically hisses, "I know who you are. And the truth of the matter is people don't change. We're not together, you've made no commitment to me, so you owe me no explanations. It's _fine_."

"Brooke, c'mon. It is _not_ like that at all. Look, just let me explain, okay?" he smiles over at her, ever the charmer. "Five minutes, c'mon."

"I just told you there's no need to. And I think we're done here." Brooke whispers, "So please just leave. Now."

**-xx-**

TRIC is packed, a large crowd gathered in front of the stage. Haley James-Scott and Chris Keller's comeback is a definite hit. The place is filled to capacity, and there's still a line outside.

Brooke and Lucas stand with Nathan near the stage, clapping along to the rhythm of the song. "I'll go get us some drinks, all right?" Brooke tells them over the music.

Clay spots Brooke through the crowd sitting at the bar, "Brooke—"

"—Clay!" Brooke cuts him off, shakes her head, "You need to stop. Okay? You are my best friend," she sighs deeply, "But maybe what happened between us was just...a fling. And if that's what it was, then we need to let it go and move on already. I don't need you to change for me. I don't need you to become my boyfriend. It's _fine_."

Clay licks his lips, "Brooke, it's not like that. Just listen to me. I don't want to change because I think that's what's gonna win you over, okay. You...you make want to be _better_. I'm certainly more of a man and less of a boy when I'm with you. You're not a fling, Brooke. You were never a fling. You're..." he sighs, flashes her a grin, "Brooke, you're _the one_. And I don't ever want you to think you're anything less than that. Not to me."

Brooke wants to think Clay's just spitting out his usual lines and laying on his charm, but she knows him too well. She can hear the sincerity in his voice. She can see the earnest look in his cobalt-blue eyes. She can tell Clay's not looking to get her to jump into his arms. He just wants her to realize that she _matters_, that she's not just another notch in his bedpost. "Fine." she relents, "Lets just drop it then. It's _fine_."

Clay rolls his eyes—Brooke's said _fine_ so much that it doesn't even sound like a word anymore. "Fine, then," he relents, "I need some air." And with that, he steps outside for a few minutes.

Haley owns the stage, her sweet demeanor and powerful voice easily drawing eyes to her. "_Didn't want to make a mess. Didn't want to feel again. This heart has had enough_."

Chris Keller sits at the Steinway, his agile fingers hitting the ivory keys with precision. His voice is still as smooth as ever: "_Desperate, hurting, all alone. Call a house that isn't home, afraid to pick it up_."

And when their voices blend together, the crowd goes wild. Fans shriek, waving their lighters in the air, "_All I want is someone to tell me I'm crazy. It just might save me. Oh, all I need is someone right here beside me_."

Then someone sees it. The stage's backdrop is going up in flames.

"OH MY GOD—**_FIRE_!**"

And that's when all hell breaks loose. People flee en mass towards the exits, shoving anything or anyone that gets in their way.

Chris Keller loops an arm around Haley's waist and they jump of the stage, immediately finding Nathan and heading towards the nearest exit. They are among the first outside, and it's Haley who dials 911 even though the fire alarm is blaring.

Lucas grabs Brooke and thrusts her petite body in front of his, shoving people away like a possessed linebacker. "GO! GO!" his hand slips out of hers in the tussle of the crowd.

Brooke glances back searching for Lucas, but instead sees Peyton on the floor trying to get up. _Fuck me_, she thinks.

Then she pushes back against the crowd currently swarming towards the exit, "PEYTON!" Brooke's fingers slide into Peyton's belt loops, her other hand grabbing the back of the blonde's shirt and pulling her to her feet, "Peyton! C'mon!" she urges, thanks god that Peyton is still as skinny as a wooden board, "We gotta get outta here! C'MON!"

Outside, Rachel and Lucas are in a heated argument. "You idiot!" the redhead yells, "You had her! I saw you helping her out! How the fuck did you _lose_ her?"

Lucas' face is red, that vein in his forehead popping out, "I thought she was in front of me!" he yells back, "I thought she was out already!"

It's then that Rachel sees Brooke dragging Peyton out the club's door. Both of their faces are stained black from the soot, "BROOKE!" the redhead rushes towards them, helps Brooke hand Peyton off to a paramedic. "Hey, are you okay?" she asks as she hugs the brunette tightly.

Brooke coughs a little, "I'm fine. I'm good." she nods, "It's all right."

Lucas runs towards her then, cups the brunette's face in his hands, "What the hell? You were right in front of me—I pulled you right in front of me! Where'd you disappear to?"

"I just..." Brooke shakes her head, "I had to...I'm fine." she concludes instead. "It's all right."

Rachel lets out a breath, "Not it's not." she says, "Nathan's still in there!" — "Clay's still in there!" Haley and Rachel say simultaneously.

Brooke's hazel eyes widen, "What? Clay's still inside?" she grips the redhead's arms, "Clay is_ inside_?"

"Nathan went after him!" Haley shrieks, her body shaking with sobs. It's Jake who's holding her back from running towards the flames.

It's more than enough to send some new adrenaline surging through Brooke's veins. She drops Rachel's arms, starts making her way back towards the club. Lucas glances to Jake, "You got her? Do you _have her_?" he asks gesturing towards Haley as he runs to catch up to Brooke.

"I have her." Jake assures him, his grip on the copper-haired mother tightening.

Lucas yells back, "Good, hold her back!" he finally reaches Brooke, "_NO_!" he slings his arms around the brunette's petite waist, hefting her up into the air to swing her around and away from the fire. "I'll get him! Stay _here_! I'll get him for you! Just _stay_ here!" Lucas orders, already making his way towards the fire, "Rachel, do _not_ let her go!"

Rachel doesn't need to be told twice, automatically looping an arm around her best friend's waist, "Brooke, Brooke, Brooke!" she holds her back tightly, but the brunette struggles fiercely swinging her elbows back and slamming them into the redhead's ribcage. "BROOKE!" Rachel yells more firmly this time, "YOU ARE _NOT_ GOING BACK IN THERE!"

Seconds pass by like hours. "It's been a long time." Brooke states, her arm linked with Haley's and her fingers digging into the copper-haired mother's forearm. Haley grips the brunette just as tightly, but neither woman seems to feel it.

"It hasn't been that long." Rachel answers automatically—she's counting the minutes. She's running on autopilot right now, making sure neither Brooke nor Haley panic more than they need to.

One of the firefighters (or maybe it's a paramedic, it's not like they're paying attention to that right now) notices Brooke and Haley struggling to catch their breath. "You two need to come to the truck," he says, "You're pale and diaphoretic, and you've got shortness of breath. C'mon."

Brooke and Haley resist. They are not moving until their men come out. Rachel sighs, grabs Brooke's face in her hands, "Listen to me," she locks eyes with the brunette, speaks clearly and calmly, "Brooke, listen. You need to go with them, okay? You don't want Clay and Lucas to come out and find you're hurt, all right. You need to be strong." she cuts her eyes to Haley, "And you need to be strong, too, Hales. Nathan's gonna pissed if he finds out you didn't take care of yourself."

And this does the trick. Slowly but surely Brooke and Haley follow the man over to the truck.

Haley, Brooke and Peyton sit in the back of one of the fireman's trucks, oxygen masks on their faces. Brooke sits in the middle, and none of them dare to speak. Not right now.

Until Peyton pierces the deathly silence, "Why'd you do it?" she asks suddenly.

"What?" Brooke lowers the oxygen mask, gives the skinny blonde a puzzled look.

(Haley seems to be completely unaware of the conversation.)

Peyton slides the mask off her face as well, "Pull me out." she clarifies, "You didn't have to. Why'd you come back for me?"

Brooke's hazel eyes look away, stare into the bright colors of the flames. Shades of reds and oranges blending together hotly. When she blinks, just for a second, she can almost hear the piercing _BAM!_ from when the gunpowder ignited inside the bullet the day Jimmy Edwards snuck a gun into school and changed everyone's lives forever. "I owed you." Brooke answers with a perfunctory tone, "And I wasn't about to leave you behind twice." she sighs deeply, repeats, "I owed you." then, "And now we're even."

Rachel keeps an eye on Brooke from a distance, continually glancing between her two friends and TRIC's door. It's almost as if she's attempting to will Nathan and Lucas and Clay to walk out. She wants to shriek in frustration when it doesn't work.

"Rachel," Haley approaches her slowly, "Have you heard anything new? Have the firemen said anything?"

Rachel know that the firemen aren't going in right now because the building's roof is starting to collapse and they're opening holes in one the exterior non-load bearing wall for ventilation, hoping to get out the few people that are left inside. They're hurrying, but either way it's taking longer than Rachel wants it to. "They're doing the best they can. And it hasn't been that long, Hales. They'll come out any minute. I know it." She's amazed by how easily the words spill from her mouth. "If I hear anything I'll run over to tell you. But you need to go back to the paramedics, okay? You gotta let them take care of that cut." There's a small cut in Haley's forearm, and it's probably nothing major, but Rachel can't handle her right now. She is barely holding it together as it is.

Jake furrows his brow, "What are you doing?"

"What do ya mean?"

"You don't know if they're gonna be okay." Jake says, "It's only been a couple of minutes, but there's a lot of smoke. You heard the fireman—the structure is _collapsing_."

Rachel scoffs, "I'm trying to comfort her." she says, "And I'm doing my best."

"I'm sorry. I know. But we shouldn't be giving her false hope. I've already seen two body bags, Rae."

The comment makes bile rise up in the redhead's throat, "Well, what do you suggest we do, then?"

"I don't know." Jake answers, "Try to prepare her for the worse?"

"I don't pray." Rachel whispers suddenly, "I don't go to church. I have no clout with God." her brown eyes lift towards the night sky, "But I could really use a miracle right about now. I mean it. I am barely holding it together here, Jake. So I need you to shut up, and let me handle this the only way I know how."

"Yeah. Maybe a moment of silence wouldn't be such a bad idea." Jake's fingers twitch at his sides as he intensely watches the TRIC club door, waiting for his friends to come out, worrying that they won't. Rachel can immediately see the need to do something written on her boyfriend's face. The redhead lays a hand upon Jake's shoulder, "Don't you dare." she hisses, her other hand gripping Jake's arm tightly. "You can't leave me now." she adds softly.

"I'm sorry." Jake looks away, wraps his strong arms around Rachel, "Of course I'm not leaving you." he presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry. It's gonna be okay."

Rachel buries her face in his chest, breathes in the scent of his Acqua Di Gio cologne. It's oddly comforting right about now. "It's never gonna be the same again." she whispers.

Two cops approach them then. "We need to speak to you," they start, "I understand you know two of the men who ran inside." It's not a question, but they pause waiting for her to answer, "Ma'am, I understand you've just gone through a trauma, but we need you to talk to us so we can get a better handle on the situation."

Rachel's eyes leave the sky then, she glances at the cops, "Three." she corrects, "There are three men inside. Clayton Evans. Lucas Scott. And Nathan Scott. They're still in there. I don't know how the fire started, I guess it spread through the air vents..." Rachel hugs herself as she tries to piece everything together to recount what happened for the police officers, "Smoke started coming from the vent on the stage, and then someone screamed _FIRE!_ All hell broke lose after that. The Emergency door was locked 'cause some kids were sneaking booze in through there and Chase had locked it up. That's when the shit really hit the fan. Chris had grabbed Haley and they'd jumped off the stage—I guess that's when Nathan grabbed her and got her out. They were the first ones outside, I think. I-I looked for Brooke, and Lucas had her—he was pushing her outside in front of him. He _had_ her. So Jake and I held each other tight and shoved our way out. But when I got outside, Brooke wasn't out yet. Nathan and Chris and Haley and Jake were all there, and we could see Lucas was coming out, but Brooke wasn't anywhere in sight. And that's when Clay went in after her—he was already outside before the fire started. But then Brooke came out a few seconds later carrying Peyton. Nathan went back inside after that because he wanted to get Clay out. 'Cause Clay wasn't going to find Brooke. Brooke was already outside. I think the paramedics took Peyton away, and that's when Brooke and Lucas found out that Clay and Nathan were inside. Brooke wanted to go in, but Lucas wouldn't let her. He went in after them both..."

**-xx-**

"NATHAN! CLAY!" Lucas yells out for them in between a fit of coughs. The smoke is so thick he can barely see, and he can see there's four guys passed out on the floor, but none of them are Nathan or Clay.

"Lucas?" Clay calls out from across the bar, "Why're you _still_ in here?"

Lucas moves towards Clay, "We have go! We have to get outta here!" The roof is already starting to come down piece by piece.

Clay yanks his arm away from Lucas' grip. "NOT WITHOUT BROOKE!"

"She's already outside!" Lucas responds, "C'mon! I told Brooke I'd get you! I promised her—get out now! I have to get Nathan!"

"Nate's inside?" Clay starts calling out for his best friend before getting an answer, "NATHAN! NATE!" he looks around, trying to spot him through the smoke, "NATHAN! Why'd he even come back here!"

Lucas rushes towards the back—it's the one place he hasn't looked in yet. "He came back for _you_!" Clay just follows him in silence. That's when they spot Nathan passed out on the floor. _Shit_. They prop him up, make sure the raven-haired Scott is still breathing (thank God he still is), and between them carry him outside.

Firemen and cops and paramedics are waiting for them outside. Nathan's immediately put in an ambulance, and Haley goes with him to the hospital.

Clayton Evans and Lucas Scott are greeted as heroes for valiantly going into the fire and getting Nathan Scott out alive.

Brooke stands alone, watches the two blue-eyed men in her life standing tall, their clothes stained back. She wants to do something, say something. But she can't move. She's stuck standing still watching Lucas and Clay. Because she feels whoever she approaches first will end up deciding something _bigger_.

"Hey," Rachel calls out softly, "Brooke, we need to go. You need to be cleared by the paramedics." she reaches to touch the brunette, wraps an arm around her shoulders, "Come on. Jake's driving us down to the hospital."

Funny thing is, neither Lucas nor Clay feel particularly heroic.

Not right now.

**-xx-**

The hospital waiting room is surprisingly empty. Most patients are still in ER and trauma, but Nathan's already in a room. Nurses and doctors are running around, and you can feel it in the air that there has been some sort of catastrophe.

Brooke and Rachel sit side by side in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs in complete silence. "You know that expression 'I'd die for you'? People say it all the time. I mean, it's a cliché in pretty much every ove-speech in cheesy movies. But you never think it'd _actually_ happen." Brooke shakes her head, "Two people almost died for me tonight. Three almost died _because_ of me."

"Brooke—"

"—Don't. Don't tell me it's not true because it is." There is a mix of anger and guilt in the brunette's voice, "Clay went into that fire because he thought I was in there. Lucas went in after him so that I wouldn't. Because he knew I'd never leave Clay behind. And Nathan...he wanted to save his best friend, and now he's in there lying in a hospital bed."

Rachel breathes deeply, "You did not start that fire, Brooke. Don't put that on yourself. And Nathan, Lucas, Clay—they're all adults. They made their own choices. And that is not on you."

Brooke scoffs, "How can you be so emotionless about this? Eight people _died_, Rae! Who knows how many more to come..."

This pisses Rachel off further. "I _know_ people died!" she yells, "You don't have to tell me that! You don't have to tell me that three of our closest friends almost died tonight because I _know_. And I know because_ I_ was the one dealing with the cops and the firemen, answering all their questions. I was the one _begging_ Jake to not go in there. And because while you and Haley were in shock, I was the one who was _holding_ you back! You were fighting my arms so hard and you struggled so much, and you were about to run into a fuckin' _burning_ building, and I had to HOLD-YOU-BACK!" she sounds out the words carefully, tears (maybe of sadness, maybe of relief, maybe of anger) pool at the corner of her eyes, "I held onto you for dear life! Look at your arms, look at your waist—those _aren_'t from when you shoved your way outta TRIC. Those are from _my_ fingertips digging into _your _skin so hard that they left a fuckin' _bruise_!"

The redhead's anger hits Brooke like a ton of bricks. "Rae—"

"—No." Rachel's on a roll now, and she will not stop. Not until she says her piece. "_You_ don't. You do not get to say _anything_ because you are scaring the shit out of me! First you're drinking half your weight in tequila, then you're standing on the edge of a fucking rooftop, and now you're running head first into a fire! We're not seventeen anymore, Brooke. All the hedonism is supposed to be _over_ now. You can't keep living your life thinking you're invincible. People are supposed to run away from death, and I feel like you're running headfirst into it." she shakes her head, "And I don't know what to do anymore! I don't know how to pull you through this!"

Brooke frowns, "That's not true." she says in her defense, "And didn't you just say that Clay, Lucas, and Nathan ran in there, too."

"It's different." Rachel tells her.

"_How_?"

Rachel looks Brooke right in the eyes, "I am not worried that they're living their lives to the ethos of no tomorrow." she explains, "I'm not worried they're being _reckless_ with their lives."

Brooke rolls her eyes in disbelief, "For God's sakes, Rachel, I am not suicidal."

"I know you're not." answers Rachel, her tone more relaxed now, "But you are definitely _something_, and I don't know what." she pauses, "_That_'s what worries me."

Another awkward silence settles between them, and this time it's Rachel who breaks it, "You know what's _really_ ironic? If no one had tried to play hero, we'd all be okay right now." she says remarkably matter-of-factly. She clears her throat, "And by the way, there are two guys over there—who, as you pointed out, were _literally_ willing to die for you—and they're waiting for you to say something. _Anything_. So go over there. Put them out of their misery already."

Clay and Lucas stand at least five feet away from each other. Neither moves when they see the brunette moving towards them.

Brooke glances between them, turns to Clay. "Clay, can you give us a minute?" Her voice does not sound like her own. It's raspier. It's quieter. It's meeker. She does not recognize it.

"Brooke." Clay searches her eyes because she can't just be sending him away right now. But he receives no response, only a silence that seems to stretch on forever. "Brooke!" he repeats more forcefully.

But Brooke doesn't seem to be all there right now. "Just...give us a minute, okay?"

Brooke turns to face Lucas. The brooder's stands tall, but looks more beaten down than ever. His stained face reveals a mixture of emotions: pain, worry, relief—a canvas of conflicting feelings. He wraps his arms around her, hugging her tightly, "Thank you, Lucas." She whispers. And it's a thank you for everything: for going into the fire for her, for making it out alive, for holding her now.

"You don't have to say it, okay?" Lucas' fingers run through her chocolate locks of hair, "You don't have to say anything. I wouldn't...I couldn't let my Pretty Girl go in there." He pulls back, locks eyes with her, "I promised I'd rescue you this time, remember?"

Brooke nods, "I know." She says, "Thanks."

"How're you doing right now?" Lucas cups her face in his hands, "Are you all right? Did a doctor check you out already?"

"I'm fine." Brooke assures him steadily, "Y-you should go, Luke. Go sit with Haley. Nathan hasn't woken up yet."

Lucas furrows his brown. Her tone feels distant. It feels like a dismissal. "Brooke—"

"—It's all right." Brooke cuts him off gently, "Please just go." Lucas kisses her forehead before reluctantly walking away.

Clay is leaning against the counter at the nurse's station. Brooke makes her way towards him slowly. She taps his shoulder, and when she looks into his cobalt-blue eyes she can immediately see how doleful he feels right now—his pain practically palpable. "Hey..."

"Brooke..." Clay's voice falters, and that never happens to him. Brooke's arms circle his waist and he holds onto her tightly, "I was so scared. I thought you were still in there and I just..." he buries his face into her hair (which by some remarkable miracle still smells sweet), "I lost it. I didn't-I didn't think of anything—all I knew was that I had to get you out. I had to make sure you were safe. And now Nate's... It's because of me. He wouldn't have gone in there if it weren't for me."

It's strange how even in a crisis they're so in sync—both eager to shoulder the blame for this. Brooke gently runs her fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him. "Shh. Shh. It's okay." She whispers, "It's gonna be okay. We're all okay. And Nathan's is going to wake up soon."

Clay looks into her hazel eyes and he can see her pain, too. He can see the guilt, and he wants to say something to take it all away. All he wants in that moment is to find some way to make it better for her. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I promise I am not going to leave you."

It's the first thing to elicit a small smile from the brunette that night, "Hey, thanks for running into a burning building to save me."

"Always." Clay answers with an affectionate grin.

"I do care about you, Clay." Brooke presses her lips to his for a second. There's nothing romantic about the gesture. It's quick and soft, kind of like a habit. "C'mon. Lets go sit with Rachel."

They make their way back towards the chairs in the waiting room, Brooke sits next to Rachel and Clay sits next to Brooke's.

For a moment—just for a second—it feels like before. When it was Brooke and Clay and Rachel, and there was no drama or complications. Just the three of them (and Jax). Their perfect little semi-functional family unit.

But that was before.

Brooke links her arm with Clay's atop the armrest. Their hands find each other and their fingers naturally entwine, and no more words are needed between them. Not at that moment.


	11. But Is It Too Late To Try?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**(You Say It's Too Late To Make It)  
>But Is It Too Late To Try?<strong>

"This is a difficult balance, telling the truth: how much to share, how much to keep, which truths will wound but not ruin, which will cut too deep to heal."

—Ally Condie

**-xx-**

"Hey," Rachel says with the most upbeat tone she can muster, "Jake just called. Kids are all right. He's tucked them in. How's Nate doing?"

Haley lets out a sigh of relief. "Lungs are fine, saturation's good, and they think they'll get him off the oxygen in a couple of hours. But he took a pretty big blow to the head. I guess it was one of the support beams or something. He still hasn't woken up. He will, though."

"Yeah, he will, Hales." The redhead assures her, "And don't worry about a thing, we've got Jamie taken care of, okay. You just stay with Nathan. He'll want to see you when he opens those gorgeous blue eyes of his."

The comment elicits a smile from the copper-haired mother, and she grips her husband's hand. "Yes he will."

"I'm gonna go. Check up on Jake, but I've got my cell with me so you can call me for whatever, all right?" Haley nods, and Rachel leaves the room. She arrives at the waiting room to find Clay and Brooke bickering.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Clay asks again, he still feels uneasy about letting the petite brunette out of his sight.

"Yes. I'm sure." Brooke assures him, "Relax, okay. You should stay. I know you want to." She knows he won't want to leave here until Nathan wakes up and everything's fine. Because he still feels guilty. "And call me as soon as Nate wakes up."

Clay nods, "You got it."

"Good." Brooke smiles, pecks his lips, and heads towards the sliding hospital doors.

"Hey, Brooke!" Clay calls out, and the brunette turns to face him, "Drive safe, all right,"

Brooke flashes him a smile, her dimples poking out fully, "Promise. I'll put my seat belt on and everything."

**-xx-**

"Hey," Lucas says, "Just wanted to let you know that Sawyer's fine. Jake's got them, and he already put 'em for the night. I'm gonna go check on her now. I think I'll let her spend the night, though. Get her in the morning."

Peyton nods in understanding, "Yeah. That's fine." Lucas turns on his heel to heel to leave, but Peyton halts him, "You know, it was weird."

"What was?" The brooder asks, turning to face his ex-wife.

"That for the first time you weren't there to save me."

Lucas rolls his eyes because he cannot believe that Peyton is going there. "It's not like I would've left you to die if I had seen you, Peyton." he scoffs, "But when the fire broke out, I wasn't thinking about looking out for you—"

"—No, you were thinking of saving _Brooke_." Peyton shoots back venomously.

"Yeah. I was." Lucas answers honestly, he shakes his head, "We are not together anymore, Peyton. And I know that in the past I've always saved you, but that's not me anymore. You know everyone thinks that the day of the shooting I ran back into the school for you. But I didn't. I hadn't even meant to run back inside at all. Nathan wanted to go in because Haley was still inside, and I went after him to stop him. But it was _Haley_. So we both went inside—a baseball bat versus a bullet. Then we saw the trail of blood leading towards the library, and we split up. But I had no idea it'd be you in the library. It could've been anyone. And don't get me wrong, I don't regret getting you outta there. I never have, and I probably never will. You were Brooke's best friend. You were my friend. And Haley's and Nathan's. I don't think any of us could've lived with ourselves if you hadn't made it out that day. But all of this was a really long time ago." he shrugs, "You need to learn to save yourself. I think it's about time, too."

Tears pool in Peyton's green eyes and she wonders just how quickly everything turned around in her life. "Give Sawyer a kiss from me, tell her I'll see her soon."

Lucas only nods before heading out of the hospital room.

**-xx-**

Jamie, Jax and Sawyer are safely asleep upstairs in James' bedroom. Brooke is currently cuddled up on the living room couch. She's changed into a pair of Haley's old sweats.

"I made some cocoa." offers Jake as he hands her a cup.

Brooke smiles, "Thanks, Jay." she says, "Not really in the mood for it, though."

"Just sip it." Jake says, "I put some liquor in it—nothing strong, just something to get your mind off things."

"Alcohol as a coping mechanism?" Brooke taunts with a smirk.

Jake shrugs a shoulder, "Bailey's barely qualifies as liquor." he defends, "I just...well, we're all a little too jittery. And it's not like we're driving anywhere tonight. Rae told Haley that we'd stay here until Nate woke up. She doesn't want to leave his bedside."

"Well, Nathan waking up soon," Brooke straightens up, clinks her cup with Jake's, "I'll drink to that."

"Cheers."

Rachel walks down the stairs wearing one of Haley's hoodys, "Jax is sleeping like log." she announces, "So are James and Sawyer. They look peaceful."

"I told you they went down easy." Jake answers, "I didn't tell them anything about the accident, though."

Rachel nods, "I don't wanna move Jax. I think I'll just crash here for the night."

"You stay, I stay," Jake says easily, presses a kiss to her lips, "C'mon. I already set up the guest bedroom." he takes her hand and leads her towards the stairs.

Rachel smiles genuinely at the fact that he already thought ahead that she'd want to stay here. "Hey," the redhead focuses on her best friend, "You gonna crash here, too?"

Brooke sighs, "Y'know what, I think I'm gonna go." she says standing up, "You guys can handle kids?"

"Piece of cake." Rachel smirks.

Brooke sticks her tongue out at her, "Piece of pie," she hugs the redhead goodbye tightly.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Rachel whispers in her ear.

Brooke whispers back, "Promise."

**-xx-**

"Hey," Lucas is surprised to see the brunette exiting the James-Scott house this late in the night. "What're you doing here?"

Brooke smiles a dimpled smile at the sight of the broody blonde, "I came with Rachel." she answers. "She and Jake are crashing here—y'know, Jax is already down for the night and Rae told Haley that she'd watch Jamie."

"That's good. I was actually gonna check on Sawyer."

"Oh, don't worry about her. Peewee's down for the night, too." Brooke tells him, "They're all camping out in James' room. Like a big slumber party. It's nice to see that someone made it through the night completely...untainted."

Lucas smiles at her words, "Do you, uh...can I take you home? I don't know if you drove here, but...I can take you home."

"That'd be nice."

**-xx-**

The drive was quiet, but in a nice way. Lucas walks Brooke to the door like a gentleman does, and she can't help the smile.

"Lucas, I..." Brooke looks down at her hands, words escaping her at the moment.

Lucas smiles, "It's okay," he strokes her cheek gently, "It's been a long night. But I'm here. Whatever you need."

That light touch is enough to ignite something deep inside the brunette. For a second she wonders if it'll always be like this with Lucas Scott. She leans into his touch, locks eyes with the blonde.

And then it happens: she stands on her tiptoes and presses her mouth to his. It's soft at first, but then it's a deeper kiss. Harsher. Passionate.

"I love you, Brooke," Lucas whispers the words against her ruby-red lips. Brooke feels the kiss all the way to the tip of her toes. She rakes her fingernails through his flaxen locks, pulls him closer to deepen the kiss. "I'm in love with you." he repeats.

"Mmm...Luke..." the words fall strained from her lips, messily in between kisses, "...mmm...I-ugh-I...we should," her dainty hands grip his chest, pulls him away, "We should stop."_  
><em>

Lucas' blue eyes burrow into hers, "_Why_?" he asks, "I mean it. I love you, Brooke Davis." he captures her lips softly, "I want this. I want us. I want everything with you."

There's a pause, a silence that seems to stretch on forever. "Stay with me... Just stay with me tonight. Don't leave me alone." Brooke looks down, whispers, "Don't leave _me_."

Lucas nods, "I can do that." he assures her, pulls her small frame against his, hugging her tightly. "I'm not leaving you."

And she feels safe there, inside Lucas' arms. No matter what else has been going on, Lucas Scott has always made her feel safe.

**-xx-**

Sunlight creeps in between the curtains, fills the room with light.

Then, Brooke's iPhone rings loudly from somewhere underneath the nightstand table. The familiar strains of OneRepublic's _Everybody Loves Me—_the ringtone Rachel had designated for herself on her best friend's cell phone—fill the bedroom.

"Uuuugh," a groan escapes from ruby-red lips as Brooke's dainty hands search for the dreaded phone. "Hello," her voice is so raspy it surprises even herself. "Rae? ...Oh my god, he is? ...Thank god! ...Yeah, yeah, I'll be there soon ...NO! No, that's okay. I can call Lucas ...Take the kids, I'll meet you there ...Okay. Bye."

Lucas smiles at her as she readjusts her weight against his chest, "Mornin', Pretty Girl," he says, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yes." Brooke bolts up from the bed, "It's great, actually. That was Rachel. Nathan's awake. He's fine." her hazel eyes dart towards the floor, "I told her we'd go down to the hospital. Um, we're all gonna meet up there...I'm gonna go shower. And you should go home. Change."

Lucas stands up and stretches his arms over his head, "Brooke," he eyes the brunette carefully, "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Everything's fine."

"C'mon, Brooke. Don't give me that." he shakes his head, he doesn't want her pulling away from him, "We slept together. What does it mean?"

"I don't know..." Brooke whispers.

"Do you regret it? Are you... just... What does this mean, Brooke?"

"I don't know." Brooke says more firmly.

Lucas walks towards her, "Brooke—"

"I don't KNOW!" Brooke pulls away, she sighs, "I don't know. Lets just get to the hospital. I have to shower. And you have to change. I'll meet you there, okay?" She takes a hesitant step towards him, presses a quick kiss to his lips. "I'll see you soon."

And with that, she disappears upstairs.

**-xx-**

Brooke arrives at the hospital first. She spots Jake by the vending machine with Jax in his arms. "Hey!" she greets, presses kiss to Jake's cheek as Jax jumps into her arms. "And hey to you, too, Rockstar," she cuts her eyes back to Jake. "Where's everyone?"

"Haley and Jamie are in with Nathan," Jake answers, "Clay and Rachel went down to the cafeteria. We left Sawyer with Peyton until Lucas gets here. I think she's getting discharged today."

Brooke smiles, "That's good. Everyone's fine, then."

"A little shaken up, but I'd say we're all doing fine." Jake answers, he takes Jax out of Brooke's arms. "Um, you should talk to Clay, B. He...I don't know, I think he's a little scared to go in and face Nathan. He feels really guilty about it, like it's all his fault."

"Yeah, all right." Brooke nods, "I'll go get him."

**-xx-**

Brooke walks into the cafeteria just as Rachel is walking out, "He needs a little reassurance right now, B." she informs her, "And not from me."

"I got this, Rae." Brooke answers the redhead with a swift nod.

Clay sits at an empty table, an untouched coffee cup in front of him. "Penny for your thoughts," Brooke offers.

"Never been worth that much," Clay answers, the ghost of his usual grin across his lips.

_It feels false_, Brooke immediately notices. "They're worth it to me," she winks, moves to steal the coffee cup.

"I wouldn't." Clay warns, "Coffee's shit here."

Brooke sets the paper cup back down, "Always looking out for me."

"Well, I try..."

Brooke sighs, "Clay. C'mon. Lets get outta here. Nathan's awake. He's fine." she says, "He wants to see you."

"It's my fault he ended up here, Brooke." Clay mutters.

"Clayton Evans, look at me," Brooke's tone is stern—she feels like she's channeling Haley right now. "You did not start that fire. None of this is your fault. Despite all your efforts to disguise it, you're a good guy—a good _man_. And you did what a good, brave man does: you tried to save your family. Nathan's a good man, too. And he did the same thing you did. I'm pretty sure he'd do it again," she stands up, grips his hand to pull him to his feet, "But most importantly, we're all right. We made it. So stop bitching, and go see your friend."

Clay grins, and this time it's real, "Thank you, B." he tells her, pulls her into a hug.

"Anytime, C." Brooke smiles a dimpled smile, "Ready to go see Nate now?"

Clay nods, clears his throat. "You gonna break out into a chorus of "Wind Beneath My Wings" anytime soon? Since I'm your hero and all that." He asks after a pause.

Brooke rolls her eyes, "Shut up!" she giggles, relieved to see that her best friend is back to normal. _  
><em>

**-xx-**

Haley is standing in the waiting room with Jamie, Jax, Jake and Rachel. She smiles at the sight of Clay, "Hey!" she greets him with a hug, "You're here. Nathan's been asking about you. Go right on in."

Clay resists the urge to gulp at the sight of larger-than-life Nathan Scott in a hospital bed. But then he flashes him that Scott-Smirk and it's business as usual. "Just a tip," he jokes, "Next time you get the urge to run into a burning building, _don't_."

Nathan chuckles, "You're welcome, asshat." he coughs, "I was following _your_ example."

Clay hands him a glass of water, "Yeah, well, I'm a bad influence, Scott." he counters, "You shouldn't do what I do. 'Sides, you can't pull it off with my style."

"This is how you talk to me after I risked my life for you, huh?" Nathan says, takes a sip of water.

Clay grins that annoying grin of his, "Not your smartest move, either." he says, "I'm not worth all the effort."

"You're right about that one," Nathan chides.

Clay rolls his eyes, "Seriously, though. You doin' good, man?"

"Y'know me, Man of Steel." Nathan nods, "Just about ready to bust outta here. Doctor wants to do some follow-up tests, but if everything's clear I should be out by tomorrow."

Clay breathes a sigh of relief, "Good." he says, "'Cause your contracts should come in on Monday. It'll be nice to tell the GM that Nathan Scott is not only a legendary basketball player and a certified hero, but also that he's outta the hospital with a clean bill of health."

Nathan smirks that Scott-Smirk, "Better get that paper signed, Agent Boy. Y'know I'm bulletproof."

"Yeah. I was just worried you weren't _fireproof_." Clay smirks back at him, after a pause he adds, "I'm glad you're all right. Thanks for goin' back for me."

Nathan shrugs as if it were nothing, "Thanks for pulling me out." he says, "You're part of the family. It's what we do."

**-xx-**

Brooke and Rachel sit on the corner booth sipping their cups of coffee. It's probably a little late for caffeine, but they've been stuck in the hospital for most of the day and they could use the boost. Nathan's outta of the woods, set to be discharged tomorrow. Peyton was discharged today. All in all, things were turning out okay. And now the two best friends just sat together and gossiped for a while.

Rachel scoffs in disbelief, "So he's standing there all broody and all he can say is what does this mean?" Brooke nods. After a pause Rachel adds, "Well, what _does_ it mean?"

"I've no idea." Brooke answers honestly.

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Well, that's helpful."

"I know."

"You need to get your head outta your ass and make a damn choice already. This backwards and forwards is so _not_ healthy."

"I know! It's just...there's still," Brooke groans in frustration, "I still feel something for Lucas. I always have. I just can't tell if it's I-thought-I'd-marry-him-someday-nostalgic-longing love or if it's an I'm-in-love-with-him-he-is-the-one-for-me love. And this is it for me. No more waiting fooling around, no more waiting. I am in it for keeps now."

Rachel nods, "Keeps with Clay or keeps with Lucas?"

Brooke sighs, "I don't know. It's getting hard to tell apart loving someone and being _in_ love with someone." she shrugs, "Besides, is Clay even ready for a relationship like that?"

"Honestly? With _you_, yeah, I think he is. You're the future for him."

Brooke leans back into the vinyl booth, "Some future..." she mutters.

**-xx-**

Nathan steps off the elevator, stops by Clay's assistant's desk first. "Mornin', Stacy," he greets, ever the charmer.

"Mr. Scott," Stacy smiles genuinely, "It's nice to see you around here again. Did you get the flowers we sent to the hospital?"

Nathan nods, "Sure did." he answers, "You're too good of a secretary for Clay." he adds with a wink, "Speaking of the knucklehead, he in already? We have a meeting today."

The comments elicit a chuckle from Stacy. "He's on the phone with the Texans GM, but you can go right in. I'm sure he won't mind."

"Thank you."

Clay paces in front of his desk, his headset in place as he negotiates another deal easily. "I am telling you, Rick, you will not regret making this deal... You get a versatile player at a great price... This kid's skills are off the charts: speed, agility, he can hit _and_ he can take a hit. Take my word for it, Tim Riggins is gonna be the next big player of the NFL. If you don't sign him now, you'll be kicking yourself for it later... You know I have great instincts, Rick."

Nathan stares at his friend, wonders for a second if _this_ is how his contract gets negotiated. With Clay pacing around his office, smooth-talking his way into a deal. Then he shrugs off his jacket and lines up a shot on the office's NBA Bonus Arcade hoop and easily sinks it in.

"All right," Clay's million-dollar, cocky grin adorns his face, "You made the right decision, Rick... Yes. I'll have Stacy fax over the contracts today, okay? Have a good day." he slides off the headset as he plops down onto his chair, his feet propped up against the desk, "And that's how the master works, Nate."

Nathan rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah," he lands another shot, "But you know it'd all mean nothing if I couldn't knock the shot. Without my talent, all your talking's worthless."

"You think you're so special," Clay walks over and grabs a basketball, sinks three shots in a row, "But you're not the only one who's got skills. And while we're on the subject of your skills—I met with the Bobcats' GM today. Your contract's all but signed. Lawyer's are just doing the final read-through before giving the okay."

The news bring a genuine smile to raven-haired Scott's face. With the accident and everything, he'd been worried about not getting signed again. "Very good," he says, "But, y'know, how many times are we gonna have this conversation? For what I'm paying you, you should be able to afford a suit, man."

But before Clay can chime in with his usual witty comeback, a little kid with sandy hair appears at the office doorway, doesn't look much older than four or five-years-old. He exclaims, "Daddy!" his chocolate-colored eyes bright with excitement.

Clay automatically grins at the sight of the boy, "Logan," he says warmly, yet still unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Then a beautiful blonde woman with piercing grey-blue eyes walks up behind the kid, she flashes them a smile, "Clay." she says simply.

Nathan's pupils have now widened to an unnatural level. "_Daddy_?" he asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Clay's cobalt-blue eyes shift from the kid to the woman. Finally he sighs, "Sara..."

**-xx-**

Nathan blinks his blue eyes repeatedly. His brain still cannot process the image he is currently seeing.

Clayton Evans is holding a four-year-old in his arms, letting the kid show him a little model airplane, "This is really awesome, kiddo." he tells him, "Is this from that set I got ya last month?"

Logan nods, "Yeah, I just finished it!"

"All by himself." Sara pipes in, steps closer to Clay and Logan, "I didn't have to help him once." She rubs her son's back, her other hand resting on Clay's toned arm.

"That's my boy," Clay kisses the side of his head and sets him down, "Why don't you go show this to Stacy at her desk? Flash her that grin of yours and you'll charm her into giving you one of your birthday presents early." Logan runs towards Stacy's desk as fast as his little legs can carry him. Clay nods towards his assistant, signaling her to give him the toy and keep him distracted.

Sara smiles, "Very smooth." she comments, presses a kiss to the brunette's lips.

Clay remains impassive, "What're you doing here, Sara?"

"Logan wanted to see you."

"Logan always wants to see me." Clay counters, "But that doesn't mean you just bring him around."

Sara sighs, "I'm here for work." she answers, "I thought you'd like to spend the day with him. I'm going to be holed up in meetings today."

Clay picks up the receiver off his desk, "Stace, cancel the rest of my day, please." he instructs, "I'm gonna be spending the afternoon with my son... No. That's fine... Just reschedule with them..."

The blonde turns to Nathan, "Hi, I'm Sara Kay." she introduces herself with a smile.

"Nathan Scott." Nathan replies while shaking her hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Sara."

"Likewise." Sara tells him, "You're one of Logan's favorite players, you know."

"He, uh, seems like a great kid. How old is he?"

Sara grins with maternal pride, "Four. Turns five soon." she glances at her little boy playing with airplanes and sighs, "He's growing up too fast."

"They tend to do that." Nathan nods, glances at the kid and still cannot process that Clayton Evans has a _son_.

"Sara." Clay's off the phone, his tone is firm, "Seriously. Why are you here?"

Sara stares him down. "I told you. Work." she chuckles, "It's almost like you're not happy to see me, Clay."

"I'm _surprised_ to see you, Sara."

The blonde glances at her watch, "I'm late. I'll pick him up tonight."

"I moved." Clay announces, "Call me, and I'll text you the address."

"All right." With that, Sara's gone. Nathan and Clay watch as she kisses her son goodbye and then disappears into the elevator.

Nathan frowns, "You have a kid?" It's a question even though he knows the answer. "You're a father? And in all this time, you've never thought to tell me that? I mean, does Brooke know? Does _anyone_ know?"

Clay licks his lips. "My personal life is just that—_personal_."

"Bull!"

"Just back off, Nate." Clay warns, and then Logan runs back into the office.

"Mom says I get to stay with you for the whole entire day, Daddy!"

"That's right, bud." Clay answers with a smile, "I'm done here. Let me grab my stuff and we can go. Day's yours. We can do whatever you want."

But Logan's big eyes are now focused on Nathan. "You're Nathan Scott!" he says impressed, "You know my daddy?" Nathan bites back the impulse to say 'I _thought_ I did', and instead nods. "Daddy, how come I never got a jersey signed by him?"

Nathan can see Clay struggling to come up with an answer, "I keep forgetting to give it to him." Nathan covers for the agent easily, "But I'll get it to ya today, kid. Promise."

Logan grins a grin eerily similar to that of his father. "_Sweet_!" he exclaims, hugs his dad.

Clay mouths Nathan a 'Thank you' and 'I'll explain later.' Nathan nods in response, watches Clay and Logan leave the office.

Nathan's eyes scan the office randomly for a minute and then he spots it. It must've been there all along.

It's a frame that holds five pictures: at the top there's one of Clay surrounded by four women (Nathan guesses those are the four sisters); the next is of Clay and Brooke in what looks like a fancy penthouse; below it there's one from Jamie's birthday party featuring Haley, Nathan and Jamie with Clay; then there's one Nathan's seen before in Brooke's house of Clay with Jax and Jamie. Finally there's one of Logan and Clay both wearing identical grins. The resemblance is seriously uncanny.

_How the hell did I miss that?_

The raven-haired Scott plops down on Clay's chair, rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

"Yep." he concludes, "Tree Hill's gotta new dose of drama rolling in."

**-xx-**

**AN: This is incredibly late. I've no excuse. Title comes from the new Maroon 5 song "Payphone". Which I happen to be kind of obsessed with. Not that it's in any way relevant. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Tell me whatcha think. **


	12. My Depth Perception Must Be Off Again

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the newly fixed Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**AN: So...a lot of really strong opinions from all of the reviewers. Nice to know that you guys are so invested. Also, I thought I'd written that in for the last chapter, but I guess I hadn't. When Lucas says he slept with Brooke he _literally_ means he slept with her. Not we-had-sex-slept-together, but we-fell-asleep-together-slept-together. It was not a euphemism for sex. **

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**My Depth Perception Must Be Off Again**

"If I could do it again, I would do it differently. But you can't do it again."

—Jonathan Safran Foer

**-xx-**

Clay walks out of the little shop, Logan walking next to him, clutching his hand tightly. "I told you they have this insane chocolate ice-cream here, Loge," he tells his son, "Don't tell your mom I gave you sweets before dinner, though."

It's also conveniently walking distance from the playground. They've had a pretty kick-ass day so far, walk through town, catching a showing of _The Avengers_, and eating their weight in sweets.

"Our secret," Logan replies, his face already covered in chocolate, and then he links pinkies with his father. "I missed ya, Daddy."

Clay grins, boosts Logan up onto one of the picnic table in the playground, "Yeah, I miss ya, too, buddy," he tells him, "But it wasn't so long since I last saw you. And you know I call you every day. 'Sides, I was totally coming down to Chicago for your birthday. I've never missed a single one, have I?"

Logan nods, but doesn't grin. "It's not enough."

"No, kiddo," Clay sighs, "It really isn't." He tickles his sides playfully, "But we make do pretty good, don't we?"

Logan laughs, "We're awesome, Daddy." he concludes.

"Yeah!" Clay grins right back at him, "High-five!" God, he really does miss seeing the kid. "Hey, how about after this we go check out my new place? It's huge and it's really cool. I know you'll love it."

Logan nods, "I guess. I still think living at the beach is cooler."

The answer prompts a chuckle from Clay, who then freezes at the sound of his name being called out—"Clay!"

It's a voice he immediately recognizes.

"Don't act like you can't hear me, dipshit!" The voice belongs to Rachel Gatina.

Clay turns to face her, "Rachel." he says, "What're you doing here?"

"On my way to the store, I'm supposed to cover for Brooke. Thought it'd be nice to cut through the park." Rachel answers offhand, cuts her eyes to Logan, "Who's the kid?"

Before Clay can answers, Logan jumps to his feet, "I'm Logan Oliver Evans." he declares proudly, extends a hand out for Rachel to shake.

Rachel shakes the kid's hand, "Evans as in..."

Clay licks his lips, "As in my son, Logan Evans." he finishes, "Loge, this Rachel. She's a friend of mine. Rae, this is Wolverine. Also known as Logan."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Wolverine—also known as Logan Oliver Evans." Rachel does her best to put on a good showface, flashes him a playful smile. "Y'know, I got a son, too. A little boy a few years younger than you. His name's Jackson. Maybe you guys can have a play date together."

Logan grins, "Sweet." He turns to his father, "Dad, can I go check out the swings?"

"Knock yourself out, Wolve," Clay nods, "Stay where I can watch you. I'll catch up in a sec."

Rachel watches him run towards the swings, "That's..."

"Yep."

"And Brooke doesn't..."

"Nope."

"But you'll..."

"Yeah." Clay nods, rubs his eyes, "I'll tell her. I just need to find the right time."

Rachel watches Logan in a kind of trance, still trying to process what's happening, "This is _heavy_, Clay." She says, "How come you never said anything?"

Clay sighs, "It's complicated."

"Kids usually are," Rachel shrugs, "I gotta go. I'm late as it is."

"What, that's it?" Clay asks surprised.

Rachel raises an eyebrow, "What's it?"

"No anger, no death threats, no judgment or smart-ass remarks to make on the subject?"

"Hey, people in glass houses, baby." Rachel's been hiding Jackson from his father for almost two years. She really has no judgment. In fact, she doesn't even wanna ask too many questions. "Besides, kid looks happy and healthy. Cute, too. Finally _something_ you did right. He actually looks too perfect to be yours."

Clay grins, "_There_'s the redhead I know and love."

"Just tell Brooke, C." Rachel says, "I won't rat you out, but I don't wanna lie to her."

Clay nods, "I know. I'll tell her today." With that, Rachel's off to work and Clay's off to the swings, "C'mon, Loge! Lets see how high you can swing!"

All in all, he's happy to have his son in town. He's missed him far too much.

**-xx-**

Nathan sits at a booth, waiting for his brother to show up. His fingers tap the table anxiously as his mind tries to process the new information.

Clayton Evans has a son—a four-year-old-soon-to-be-five kid. Clayton Evans is a father. It feels surreal.

"Nate," Lucas greets, slides into the booth across from his brother, "Sorry I'm late. Meeting with the insurance people took forever."

Nathan snaps out of it, tries to appear cool. "Uh, yeah...sure. No problem. I still got a little while before I have to pick up Jamie." he chuckles awkwardly, "How's all that goin', by the way?"

"Pain in the ass." Lucas shrugs, "They're willing to pay up, but it's not enough to get TRIC open again. I'm trying to settle it without having to call my Mom in to deal with it—y'know her name is still on all the papers. And then it's another pain in the ass 'cause Red Bedroom's there, too." the brooder waves a hand dismissively, "Anyway, enough about that. How're you feeling? You doing all right?"

Nathan smirks, "Yeah. Everything's good." he says, "Jeez, one little hospitalization for a some smoke inhalation and a minor contusion, and suddenly everyone's worried about my health."

"Funny, Chuckles," Lucas rolls his eyes, "I'm your _big_ _brother_. I worry about you. It's part of the job."

Nathan shrugs, "Well, I'm all good now, big brother. No need to worry. Um...so, insurance's a bitch, huh?" The raven-haired Scott asks in an attempt to change the subject away from his health.

Lucas nods, sips his coffee, "Yeah. Apparently our policy doesn't even cover all of the structural damage, let alone all the other repairs."

"Hales was talking about that yesterday. I think she, Peyton and Chris are working up some fundraiser or something." Nathan offers, "And speaking of everything, how're things with Brooke? Pretty bold gesture you pulled off the night of the fire. That score you any points?"

Lucas runs his fingers through his hair, "A few, though she's awkwardly avoiding me right now,"

"Very good," Nathan smirks.

"Hmm, speaking of the party, check this out," Lucas slides his iPhone towards Nathan, a digital copy of the invitation on the screen, "They do work fast."

_Please come to the first annual_  
><em>Masquerade Ball and Fundraiser<em>  
><em>Thursday, the fifth of September<em>  
><em>8 o'clock in the evening<em>  
><em>The Camelot Hotel<em>  
><em>4804 8th Avenue<em>  
><em>Tree Hill, North Carolina<em>

_All proceeds will fund  
>the<em> _re-opening of TRIC Nightclub_  
><em>&amp; Red Bedroom Records<em>

_Black tie attire_  
><em>Mask is a must<em>

Nathan raises a skeptical eyebrow, "A Masquerade?" Lucas merely shrugs, "That seems like a _bad_ idea. Hales sent this?"

"Actually, this is from Chris Keller. And why is it a bad idea?" Lucas asks, "I mean, you never know. It might be fun."

"Sure. 'Cause tuxes, alcohol and masks to hide who we really are usually conductive to good things." Nathan replies sarcastically, "I just got a bad feeling about the whole thing." he says, glances at his watch.

Lucas chuckles, "I think I kind of like the mystery of it all." he says, "Put on a mask, be someone else for the night. Or at least pretend to be."

"You really should be careful about that." Nathan advises as he gets out of the booth.

"And why's that, little brother?"

"Because someone else might be pretending, too." Nathan concludes, "And it's been my experience that adults playing pretend is a dangerous game."

Lucas furrows his brow, "When did you become the smart one?" he asks, places a few bucks on the table for the coffee.

"All that time with Haley." Nathan shrugs, "Some of it finally rubbed off on me."

"About time, too." Lucas jokes, "Give James a hug for me, will you."

Nathan nods, "Will do." he says, "Where you headed?"

"Something I gotta check out," Lucas answers in a non-committal matter.

"Okay, Mystery Man," Nathan answers, "See you later."

They proceed to do the guy-fist-bump thing, and then they're gone their separate ways.

**-xx-**

Brooke groans at the sound of the doorbell. The brunette is in serious design mode: still in her PJs, hair tied up in a messy bun and her glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose. Who dares interrupt her creative process?

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she mutters as she makes her way towards the door. She doesn't know if she's happy or sad to find Lucas Scott standing there. "Lucas..."

Lucas flashes her a smile, "Hey, am I interrupting?"

"Kinda. I'm running behind on the new line and today's design-cram day." Brooke answers, steps aside, "But come on in anyways, my brain could probably use the break."

Lucas waves a paper bag, "Well, I brought you some fuel—cherry danish, mocha double latte extra foam,"

Brooke's dainty hands practically rip the bag from his hands. "You are kinda my hero right now."

"I aim to please."

"Yeah," Brooke eyes him curiously, "But something tells me you're not really here bring me grub and caffeine..."

Lucas grins, "Well, not _just_ for that," he starts, "but I do like to take care of you." The declaration makes her blush and look away. Lucas likes that he can still do that to her. "Uh, my other reason for being here: see, as of late, things have been feeling a little too final. With everything going on, things just feel too...heavy. So I'm taking it down a notch. It's not forever, not a big romantic gesture. It's just a date—dinner, maybe drinks afterwards. Nothing too fancy, keep it casual. I'll pick you up at eight?"

"Lucas..."

"Don't say no, Brooke. C'mon. One date." He raises his index finger, "Just one date."

Brooke cracks a smile at his insistence, "Fine." she sighs, "I could probably use the distraction—_one_ _date_."

"That's all I'm askin'," Lucas says, presses a kiss to the brunette's cheek, "I will pick you up at eight, Pretty Girl."

Brooke winces slightly at the nickname, still not ready to once again attach who they used to be in high school to her name. "Not really ready for that to make a comeback, Luke."

Lucas nods in understanding. "I'm sorry."

"Just...I'll see you at eight."

Lucas smiles, doesn't want to press his luck. "Eight it is."

**-xx-**

With no TRIC to use as a meeting place, the James-Scott house is now central command for running RBR. The kitchen table is littered with documents and contracts and sheet music, a new coffee pot being brewed almost hourly now.

Haley is barefoot and currently pacing back and forth behind the kitchen counter. A yellow legal pad in one hand, pen in the other, and her cell phone pinned between her cheek and shoulder blade while she scribbles notes. "YES!" she exclaims, "Yes, that would be fantastic! Thank you so much." she hangs up, raises her arms in victory, "We've already lined up four sponsors for the benefit." she announces to her partner.

"That is great!" replies Peyton with a smile, "Thank god we're pulling this together so quickly. Okay, so I got the hotel to give us the grand hall for free, and talked the caterer down to a pretty decent discount."

Chris Keller walks into the kitchen now, carrying Sawyer Scott against his hip. (She's basically the only female who doesn't cringe at the sight of him.) "I just got off the line with Ryan, and he's in. He'll fly in with the band on the 21st. Now, who's the man?" he asks, raising his free hand for high-five. As per usual, he's left hanging.

"You'll five it, right, Peewee?" Chris asks Sawyer hopefully. The two-year-old doesn't disappoint and high-fives his hand giddily.

Peyton frowns, "Don't call my daughter Peewee."

"Brooke calls her Peewee." Chris Keller mutters only to get a notebook slammed against his head.

Peyton rolls her eyes, "Just go put her in the living room again. We're supposed to be working."

"_Fine_. Cranky, cranky!"

Jake's voice booms in, "Haley! Chris!" he calls out, "I'm sorry I'm late. Rae had to work so I had to get Jax—" The words halt at the sight of the curly-haired blonde he hadn't really spoken to in years. Jake sits Jax down on the counter, he sighs, "Peyton..."

A smile tugs at Peyton's lips, "Hi, Jake," she greets.

"Oh, this is a total Katy Perry soundtrack moment." Chris Keller whispers. Haley merely offers him a confused look. "Do I have to explain _everything_? It's clear that Jake and Peyton have a the-one-that-got-away situation goin' on here."

Haley rolls her eyes, "You're such an idiot, Chris," she mutters, "Um, I'll take Jax. Sawyer's in the living room watching cartoons." she picks up the blonde boy and pulls Chris with her to give the ex-flames a second to catch up.

"How've you been?" asks Peyton, "I heard you're shacking up with Rachel now."

Jake opts for ignoring the subtle dig in her tone, "Things are good. Rachel and I are getting pretty serious, and we are in fact living together."

"And Jenny?"

"Jen's good, perfect. Gotten really big since the last time you saw her." Jake grins with paternal pride, "Nikki's got her in LA till the end of the month. I'm picking her up next week."

Peyton furrows her brow, "You and Nikki finally made peace?" she asks surprised.

"Had to." Jake says, scratches the back of his head, "Um...so, uh, how's the benefit idea coming along?"

"Really good. C'mon, I'll catch you up on what you've missed."

**-xx-**

After a fast paced day, Logan's out easy. Kid loves the idea of living in a firehouse, particularly the fire pole. His new bedroom isn't all set up yet, but it's his bunk bed's all set up complete with X-Men sheets so he's a more than happy camper.

Clay on the other hand hasn't been able to turn his brain off. He continues to pace around his apartment, Blackberry in hand as he tries to figure out how to tell Brooke about Logan. And Sara.

A knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts. Clay slides down the pole and opens up. "Hey, Sara,"

Sara glances around, "Nice place." She comments, "It suits you."

"Yeah. Logan likes it, too." Clay comments, "He's asleep upstairs."

Sara nods, "How've you been, Clay?"

"Great. Everything's good." Clay runs his fingers through his hair, "Why're you really here, Sara? Don't say work. I know it can't be just work. And don't say because Logan wanted to see me, 'cause I know that's not enough for you to come around."

Sara shrugs, "Maybe I wanted to see you, too."

"Don't go there."

"Why not?" Sara asks, "I think I'm allowed to broach the subject. _You_'re the one who walked away, Clay."

Clay's eyes widen in surprise at the accusation, "I asked you to marry me!"

"Yes. As I recall it went something like this: Shit! Um, uh...should we, like, get married now?" Sara mocks his voice and rolls her eyes, "With a proposal like that, how can a girl say no?"

Clay rolls his eyes now, "Oh, c'mon, you'd just told me you were knocked up! I was scared, but then I stepped up. I told you I'd be there for you, and you walked away. You don't get to play the victim, Sara. There were no wounded parties in our relationship."

"No, there weren't." Sara comments with a smile. All in all, they'd parted mostly amicably. "We burned out pretty brightly together,"

Clay can't help the grin, "Key word being_ out_, Sara," he says, "We're in the past."

"You know, there was a time when you thought of me as the love of your life—"

Clay chuckles, cuts her off, "We were _nineteen_!" he says, "Things change. And I believe the most we ever said was 'I love you', no one ever talked about forever."

It's Sara's turn to chuckle, "You asked me to marry you!" Their arguing has always been playful, a battle of wits rather than an all-out fight.

"And you said no so you don't get to use it against me five years later!" Clay shoots back with a grin, "You said _no_. And that was the right decision. We weren't the right fit, Sara."

"Well, we've both done a lot of growing up." Sara reaches for his hand, "I've missed you, Clay."

Clay shakes his head, pulls his hand away. "_Don't_ go there, Sara."

"You know, if Loge's asleep, I don't want to wake him." Sara replies, "I'm staying at a hotel in town, how about I pick him up tomorrow. I get out earlier so I should be here around four, five at the latest."

Clay nods, "That's fine. You know I love having him around."

"I know." Sara smiles, presses a kiss to his cheek, "I'll see you tomorrow, Clay."

**-xx-**

Clay is splayed on his living room couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and glass of Scotch in hand. He's kind of regretting not being able to get wasted right about now because alcohol seems like the perfect way to cope with his current situation.

What is going on with Sara?

Once more a knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts.

Clay heads downstairs and opens the door, only half surprised to find Nathan Scott standing there. "I'm not in the mood, Nathan," he warns, his tone making it clear that he does not want to talk about it right now.

Nathan rolls his eyes, "Dude, you're a _father_!" he exclaims, "You kid just showed up! Here," he tosses the agent a Bobcats jersey, "I signed that for him." he sighs, "I'm your best friend. Just talk to me, man."

Clay eyes the jersey, knows Logan will love to add it to his growing collection. "It was college." he starts, "Sara and I, we were the golden couple. For a while. On our senior year we were officially off and ready to go our separate ways. But...there was that last we-were-drunk-and-horny-and-nostalgic hook-up. I found out she was pregnant graduation day."

"And you what, walked away?" Nathan can't help a certain trace of disdain in his voice—father who walks away from his son, it's a little too much like Dan for his tastes.

"I didn't walk away!" Clay clarifies, clearly upset by the accusation, "Sara told me she was pregnant and that she was keeping the baby, and I did the right thing—I asked her to marry me. She turned me down. Custody issues are kind of a bitch to solve when you never married the mother. But I've _never_ walked away from my son."

Nathan blinks, "Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

"Asides from this particular disapproval I'm getting from you right now, why would I tell you that I have a son that I can barely see? I've no interest in anyone's judgment or pity. It is what it is."

Nathan shakes his head, "It's not pity, Clay. Look, you're...you're my agent and my friend—I trust you with my career and with my family. I just thought that went both ways."

Great. Now Clay also feels like a shitty friend, too. "It does, Nathan." He sighs, "Look, it's complicated. And I'm not exactly proud that I can't be a full-time, super-hero dad like you are."

"Clay. Just because you can't see your kid every day doesn't mean you're not his super-hero dad." Nathan says warmly, "I saw my dad every day when I was growing up and he was still a shitty father. I only met him for, like, five minutes, but it's clear that Logan loves you."

Clay rubs the back of his head, "It's just...complicated."

"Right. I get that. But you're part of the family, Clay. Don't shut me out, all right?"

Clay nods, "Thanks, dude. I won't." he raises the jersey a little, "Thanks for this, too. Logan's gonna love it."

"It's no problem. You should bring the kid around the house sometime. I'm sure Jamie would love to hang out with him."

"Yeah, that'd be a pretty kick-ass duo." Clay grins, "Uh, you already told Haley about Logan, didn't you?"

Nathan shrugs a shoulder, "She's my wife, man. If I don't tell her things she can withhold sex." He says matter-of-factly.

"The Bro Code doesn't apply there, huh?"

Nathan smirks, shakes his head, "Not at all."

"Fair enough," Clay chuckles, "All right, how about a beer then?"

Nathan nods, "Sure. A beer sounds great, man."

**-xx-**

The dark bar isn't particularly crowded. It hasn't much changed in the last eight years since the couple last visited together. Same stools, same pool tables, even the same old bartender.

"I can't believe you brought me here!" exclaims Brooke with a thousand-watt smile, her dimples poking out fully.

Lucas grins at her enthusiasm, "I told you I'd keep it casual." he says, "Wanna a beer?"

"Really pushing the walk down memory lane, huh?" Brooke teases.

Lucas shrugs, "Gotta stick to my strengths,"

Brooke smiles, "I'm making this pretty easy for you. If I remember correctly, you made me read that Steinbeck book in exchange for this excursion." She purses her lips in thought, "_The Winter of Our Discontent_." she says, pauses and licks her lips: "I wonder how many people I've looked at all my life and never seen." she recites.

Lucas grins, clearly surprised, "That's from the book!" he exclaims, "You remember that? After all this time?"

"Hey! You're not the only one who can memorize a quote, Scott."

Lucas' blue eyes focus on Brooke's, "You're amazing, you know that? After all this time, you still never cease to surprise me."

And it's nice to have him look at her like that, Brooke realizes, like she's breathtaking.

Brooke shakes her head, "Um, so, what are you reading?"

"Well, how do you know I'm reading something?" Lucas teases.

"I know that you have a paperback in one of your back pockets," Brooke says knowingly, "We've all changed, but not _that_ much. We still are who we are. So, c'mon, what're you reading tonight?"

"All right," Lucas caves, "Milan Kundera. _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_."

Brooke does the frowny-pouty thing that both Lucas and Clay find charming. "Sounds deep." She chuckles, "Read me something."

"What?" Lucas asks, confused.

"Read me something." Brooke repeats, "You always used to read me something from whatever book you were reading. It was nice."

"All right," Lucas licks his lips, thinks up of a quote he particularly enjoyed from the book: "When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object."

Brooke raises an eyebrow skeptically, "Well, isn't that the perpetual conflict of every great story?"

Lucas asks, "What is?"

Brooke shrugs, answers as if it were obvious, "The war between what your head knows is right and what your heart believes to be true."

Lucas leans closer to her, "I don't know. I think my head and my heart are in pretty good accordance of what they want now."

"Yeah?" Brooke can now feel his breath across her lips.

"Yes." Lucas presses his lips against hers softly.

Brooke pulls back, a lazy smile across her red lips, "Um, I should probably get home."

"All right." Lucas nods, "Let's go."

**-xx-**

Clay walks into the store, Logan riding piggyback, "Hello!" he calls out.

To his surprise it's Rachel who pops in from the back, "Hey," she greets, "Hi, Logan!" Clay's look indicates he wants to talk. "Uh, handsome, can you watch the counter for me? I need to borrow your dad for a second."

"Sure!" Logan answers easily, "I can handle it."

Clay sets Logan down on the store's counter and follows Rachel towards the back, "What gives, Red?"

Rachel crosses her arms over her chest, "This is how you're gonna tell Brooke you're a father. Just bring the kid here and introduce them?"

"What?" Clay smirks, "Logan's cute—and not just because he's my kid. The cuteness factor overrides the surprise factor. So maybe Brooke won't freak out that much."

It's then that Brooke walks into the store, coffee cup in hand. "Hey, cutie, who do you belong to?" she asks upon spotting the boy sitting on her store counter.

"I'm Logan Oliver Evans." Logan introduces himself proudly. "Who're you?"

Brooke smiles at the kid's tone, "I'm Brooke." she answers, "And you're Logan _Evans_." she repeats, "Evans as in..."

And then that Clay pops out from the back with Rachel, "Dimples..." his voice trails off.

"Hey, Daddy," Logan grins, "I _like_ Brooke. She's pretty."

"Yep." Rachel furrows her brow, "_Definitely_ your kid. C'mon Logan. Lets give daddy and the pretty girl a minute." she says, picks the kid off the counter and disappears into the back room once more.

Brooke's eyes are wide, "You're a _father_?" she asks, "You have a _kid_? And you never thought to tell me that?"

"Look, it's complicated. I—"

"No shit it's complicated! You still should've told me!" Brooke cuts him off, "I-I share _everything_ with you! I had _sex_ with you! I was..."

Brooke was _vulnerable_ with Clay. He had seen her at her highest and at her lowest. They shared everything.

Or at least she thought they did.

"Brooke, I'm sorry."

Brooke shakes her head, "Don't." she says, "Don't do the charming thing and don't use that gorgeous little boy to con me into letting this go. Just leave. I'll talk to you later."

"Brooke, just—"

"Clay." Brooke hisses, "_Go_."

**-xx-**

Clay walks into the diner, Logan in his arms, and immediately spots Brooke. The brunette is at one of the family tables, a chestnut-haired girl in her lap as they devour a stack of pancakes. Across from her sits Nathan with Jamie. Lucas is nowhere in sight, but Clay guesses he'll show up eventually.

"Hey!" Rachel walks up to him, flashes him a smile, "And hello, Logan!" she high-fives the toddler, "Jackson's over there with Jamie, you can go play with 'em if you want."

Logan grins at the suggestion, "Can I, Daddy?"

"Um, yeah, go right ahead, buddy," Clay mutters absentmindedly.

Rachel punches his shoulder, "C'mon, Jay and I got a table over there." She immediately notices what's got Clay's attention. "He's not coming. Haley and Nathan are babysitting for him, he and Peyton are stuck in meetings with the insurance people all day."

Clay shakes his head, "Y'know what, I think I'll just go."

"You just got here."

"Brooke won't want to see me. She's still a little too pissed off."

Rachel rolls her eyes, "So what? Five minutes with Logan and she'll fall in love and forgive you. Yes, your son is _that_ charming."

"Okay, this boy is way too smart and cute to be related to you." comments Haley teasingly when she approaches the pair with Logan.

"Thanks, Hales," Clays says sarcastically, "Ready to go, bud?"

"What, you're leaving?" Haley asks surprised.

Rachel says, "He doesn't want to face Brooke."

"Clay!" admonishes Haley.

"That's not it!" Clay sighs, "She's happy. I can't take that version of her perfect future away. Brooke deserves to have the life she's always wanted—complete with a family and broody blonde kids." he cracks quite possibly the saddest smile Haley's ever seen, but his words are sincere. "And I'd never begrudge her what she wants. I want her to be happy. She deserves to have someone who loves her."

Rachel shakes her head, furrows her brow, "Clay," she says firmly, "you love her, too."

"But I'm no good for her." Clay says, picking up his jacket and grabbing Logan's hand. "I'll see you guys later." And with that he's gone.

Haley and Rachel stand side by side and watch the father and son go. "This is getting a little too complicated." The copper-haired mother mutters. "Lucas is my best friend, and I love him. But I really don't want to see Clay get hurt, either."

"Well, I don't care about Lucas." Says Rachel curtly. "I care about Brooke and I care about Clay. And I think they're good together."

Haley sighs, "No one can deny that Brooke brings out the best in Clay."

Rachel shakes her head, "It's not just that she makes him decent. And she does." She says, "But he changes her too. Clay challenges her—he can_ match her_. Lucas is different."

"Don't belittle Luke." Haley says, defensive of her best friend, "He's good for Brooke. They've always been good together."

"I'm not saying he isn't." Rachel replies, "Not exactly. I mean, he'll always be good for her in that first-love kind of way. But I don't _trust_ him."

Haley purses her lips, "You really need to stop the whole overprotective big sister thing you got going with Brooke. Trust me, I know from experience she doesn't like that."

"Brooke is the only family I have, Haley. Besides Jax that is." Rachel says seriously, "I'll protect her with everything I've got."


	13. It Hurts to Wait With Love

**AN: It's been...I don't even remember how long, so it's probably been a while since I've touched this story. Or any of my stories, for that matter. It kills me to have something unfinished, and I've thought about just deleting this, but I couldn't bring myself to actually do it. I lost inspiration and got focused on other things, but I wanna try and see this story through to the end. I'm hoping a few of you are still interested. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**It Hurts to Wait With Love if Love is Somewhere Else**

"Love and I once had a great relationship, but I fear we've broken up. It cheated on me, wrecked my heart, and then went on to date other people. A lot of other people. And I can't stand to watch it, since love's going to cheat on them too."

―David Levithan

**-xx-**

"I don't even wanna go to this thing."

Clay whines while he absentmindedly looks over a rack of masks.

Jake smirks, "You need to stop complaining," he says, "It's not like you're the only one with some relationship drama — ooh, what do you think?" he asks, trying on a gold mask.

Clay shakes his head, "It looks weird." he says, "And what _exactly_ do you have to complain about? You're living in a perfectly content Norman Rockwell existence with Rachel and Jax."

"Hey, it's not without its baggage." Jake replies, "Working with Peyton's been weird. It's like she keeps throwing all these not-so-subtle digs at my relationship with Rae. I don't know. It's complicated. Not to mention the fact that Rachel she hasn't met Jenny yet."

Clay raises an eyebrow, "Right." he scoffs, "I feel for you. You're with an amazingly gorgeous redhead and the ex-love-of-your-life is jealous. It must be so _hard_ to be you, dude."

"Shut up," Jake rolls his eyes, picks up a white mask, "How about this one?"

"What's with all the goody-boy masks?" Clay asks, picking up a Phantom of the Opera mask. "Take a step to the dark side, Jaglieski. We have cookies."

"I found it!" exclaims Chris Keller, popping up from behind a rack, "I have found the perfect mask for the Keller." he declares, placing a red-and-black harlequin mask with horns over his face.

Jake kinks his eyebrows. "The devil." he says, "How fitting."

"Okay, remind me again why we had to bring him along?" Asks Clay, pointing a thumb at the self-important singer.

Jake shrugs, "He's kinda my best friend."

"Yeah, add _that_ to the list of mysteries of the universe." comments Clay as he goes back to browsing, "Hey, Chris, how long is this thing going to go for?"

Chris grins, "Oh, it's an all-nighter. We went all out. Auction, raffle, dinner, dancing—the Keller knows how to throw a party." he says, "This thing will raise enough dough to open up two TRICs."

"Y'know, somehow, being stuck all night watching Douche-ass Scott dance with Brooke in formal wear isn't my idea of a party." Clay says bitterly.

Chris lets out a loud cackle, "HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Douche-ass Scott!" he raises his hand, "Up top, bro! Oh, come on, you _gotta_ five it, man!"

Clay laughs and surrenders, high-fiving Chris.

"Look, bro, ya need to get your balls out of your pockets and step up. 'Cause really the game is pretty much tied at this point, so go for the kill and get your girl back." Chris shrugs, "It doesn't really seem that complicated to me."

"I can't do that to her, man." Clay says, turns to Jake, "I mean, you saw her the other day, Jay. She obviously loves Sawyer, and...Lucas has always been the one that got away." he shrugs, "I just want her to be happy. And I couldn't live with myself if I'm the one standing in the way of her getting to _be_ happy. She doesn't need me to step in. She just needs me to back off."

Jake feels for Clay because he'd done the same thing once upon a time, and he knows what a bitch it is to have to do the right thing by someone you love, especially when the right thing is letting them go. "Um, here," he says, handing Clay a simple black mask. "Try that on."

Clay ties on the mask and checks himself out in the mirror, "I don't know," he says, "It's a little Lone Ranger, isn't it?"

"I think it suits you." Chris Keller offers with a decisive tone, "Now we just need one for goody-two-shoes over here and we're done."

Jake rolls his eyes, "Fuck you very much, Chris."

"Here," Clay chuckles, passing him a silver mask with trim, "It'll probably match Red's dress. She'll approve."

Jake tries it on and fits him perfectly. "All right. Good looking out, C."

**-xx-**

Brooke finishes pinning up a dress and plops down onto the living-room couch, "All right, you're done," she tells Rachel, "Take it off and I'll finish it tonight."

The redhead does as she's told, strips down to her underwear, "You got your dress and mask already?" she asks, glancing around a rack of dresses in the living-room.

Brooke doesn't look up from her sketch pad, "Yeah, I picked one out yesterday," she comments absentmindedly, "And Luke told me he already got masks for us, so I'm set. How about you?"

Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes, "_Really_?" she asks, "You're taking Lucas to this party?"

Brooke narrows her eyes, "Back off, Rae. I don't need you meddling. My life is working. _Finally_."

"Brooke." Rachel deadpans, "I mean, this is me you're talking to."

"I'm aware," the brunette locks eyes with the redhead, "Look, I'm done playing around. I'm done with...whatever it is I was doing with Clay. He is who he is—funny, neurotic in that way my mother once drunkenly warned me wouldn't be cute after a while, and mind-blowingly great in bed. But he's not any more than that, and he isn't ever going to be. Don't get me wrong, he's my friend, but...that's all it can ever be. I think it's better that way."

Rachel sighs, "B., he's _changed_," she says, "The thing with not talking about the kid, I really don't think that was about you. He's obviously got issues with the whole arrangement."

"People don't change, Rachel." Brooke says, "You should know that—we can modify, we can learn to adjust. But underneath, we are who we are and there's no running from it. Thinking you can get someone to change, _that_'s what ruins relationships. And Lucas is here and he's stepped up and we _work_."

Rachel gives her a look of maternal skepticism, which she's mastered fairly early given that Jackson is still a baby. "Do you love him?" she asks, "Do you love Lucas? Or is he just convenient?"

"Don't go there." Brooke shakes her head, "You know I love Lucas."

Rachel slides on her jeans, decides is best not to push at those buttons right now. "Look, I gotta go. I'm meeting Jake for lunch." she says, "Call me later, okay? I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to be." Brooke says, "Tell Jake I said hey."

Rachel nods, "Will do." And with that, she's gone.

Brooke plops down in front of her sewing machine to finish up the final details of the dress, figures it'll be an easy fix. Try as she might, she can't quite force the redhead's words out of her head. Finally she gives in and pulls out her iPhone, scrolling down through the contacts until she gets to the 'F'. She takes a deep breath and then double-taps the number to make the call.

"_This is Ezra_," Ezra Fitz's cool voice greets through the phone.

Brooke clears her throat, "Hey, Fitz," she greets, her voice raspier than usual, "It's Brooke."

Ezra frowns, his mind already wondering what could be wrong with Clay, "_Hi_, _Brooke, how're you? Is everything okay?_"

"Did you know?" Brooke asks quietly, "About...Logan. Did you know?"

There's a pause before he answers, "_I'm his godfather._" Ezra says, then he adds on matter-of-factly, "_He's a good kid_."

Brooke scoffs, "I'm sure he is."

"_How'd you find out, Brooke?_"

Brooke licks her lips, "He's in town with Sara," she says. "I'm assuming Sara's the mother."

"_Yeah_." Ezra says, "_I can give you the short version, if you want it_." He pauses and takes her silence as a yes. "_Clay and Sara were the golden couple back at Dartmouth. They were broken up when she found out she was pregnant. They never got married. Clay sees Logan sporadically since Sara's got full custody. He doesn't like to talk about it. Thinks that makes him a bad dad or something._"

Brooke nods to herself, "Yeah, that sounds like Clay."

"_Look, I don't really approve of the way he handled things—Clay's not one for much forethought._" Ezra sighs, "_But he thinks the sun rises and sets with you, Brooke. He was probably scared to tell you. I'm guessing he didn't want you to think he's a deadbeat. I know it's hard, but please cut him some slack on this one. It's a lot more complicated than you can imagine._"

"I'll think about it," Brooke replies noncommittally, "I gotta go. Bye, Ez."

Ezra clears his throat, "_Goodbye, Brooke._"

"Oh, and Fitz," Brooke pauses before hanging up, "Don't tell him I called, okay?" She glances at her watch and dials another number, waits while the phone rings, "Hey, broody," she greets easily.

Lucas smiles at hearing her voice, "_Hi, Cheery_," he says, "_I wasn't sure I'd hear from you today._"

"Well, I told you I'd take Sawyer for the day, remember?" Brooke asks, her feet already searching the floor for her heels, "You didn't want her to be bored at the insurance meetings, right?"

"_Yeah, that'd be great, if you don't mind_," Lucas says, clearly excited by the idea. He's been threading carefully with the brunette, not wanting to scare her away with too much too soon.

Brooke smiles, "I don't mind." She's been spending a lot of time with both Lucas and Sawyer these last few days, and she's enjoying herself. Sawyer is an amazing little girl and Lucas has been wonderful. "I'll pick her up in about twenty?"

"_Okay_." Lucas says, "_See you soon, babe_."

Brooke nods to herself, "See ya, broody."

**-xx-**

Lucas slides his phone back into his jeans' pocket and finishes off his tie knot, checking himself out in the mirror. "What do you think?" He asks, turning around to face his brother.

"Looks good," mutters Nathan absentmindedly.

The Scott brothers had hit up the mall to get their tuxes for the big masquerade party. Nathan is clearly useless without Haley seeing as he's been struggling way too much with his cummerbund and bow-tie for the past twenty minutes.

Lucas chuckles, "You're a mess." He says, tosses the raven-haired Scott a black tie. "Try that on. It's easier." He suggests, "That was Brooke, by the way. She's picking up Sawyer soon. We've been on a couple of dates now. Things are going good."

"Yeah?" Nathan pats his back with a grin, "That's great, dude. I'm happy for you. And it's good that she likes Sawyer, too. That's important."

Lucas nods along, "Yeah, I mean they get along great—Sawyer loves to color and doodle, and last week Brooke brought down her sketch pad and just sat down with her all afternoon. They shared coloring pencils and Brooke even asked for her input sometimes. Sawyer was grinning like crazy. It was great."

Truthfully, he's relieved. Sawyer's been adapting the new changes in their lives fairly well, she's taken to Brooke quickly, and things with Brooke seem to be moving along slowly but steadily. That's more than he ever dreamed off just a few months ago.

"Well, I hope it all works out, Luke," Nathan winks, still struggling to tighten his cummerbund. "Screw it." He says, tossing it aside. "Unnecessary accessory. We've got our tuxes. Can we get outta here now?"

Lucas laughs once more, "Sure," he says, "I'll go ring these up. Meet you outside, all right?"

**-xx-**

"Which ones do you need, the peep-toes or the slingbacks?" Haley asks as she scavenges around the shoes in her walk-in closet.

"Slingbacks might look best, I think," answers Peyton, plopping down on the bed as she continues to browse an old Rolling Stone.

Haley appears, shoes in hand, "You're right, I think these will definitely look better with your dress." She says decisively, plopping down next to the blonde, "I can't believe the party is tomorrow already. Feels like it took forever to plan."

"Yeah, I was pretty out of practice at wrangling up all the entertainment." Peyton says, "But Jake was a great help. And Chris was surprisingly not as big a nuisance as I would've expected."

Haley chuckles at that, "I'm actually surprised the kids took to him so fast. I mean, they're so picky about who they like, but then they're all for clowning around with him."

"He's like toddler catnip," Peyton offers with a shrug, "Who'd have thunk it? I also can't believe he's actually friends with Jake — Jake Jaglieski, who's one of the most decent guys to ever grace Tree Hill, hanging out with the sleaziest local singer."

Haley laughs, "Y'know, he's actually growing on me. Jamie defends him way too much." She says, "Hey, speaking of Jake, what's going on there?"

"Nothing. He's with _Rachel_ of all people."

"Yeah, I know that," Haley says, "But I've been getting this vibe from you. I never found out how it ended with you guys. I mean, I know you really cared about him."

Peyton nods, "I did — I _do_. He was my...someday. I guess." She sighs, shaking it off, "But things changed, Luke and I happened. We got married. Sawyer happened. Life kept moving on, y'know?"

"Any regrets?"

Peyton sighs, "I've lost track of what I regret, Hales." She admits sadly, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Sawyer and I love Luke, but everything else... It just feels like a lot of bad decisions strung together with good intentions. I don't even know what was real anymore."

Haley wonders what the hell happened to the scrappy fighter that used to be one of her best friends. It's all kind off sad, really. "Don't think like that, Peyton. Things will start looking up soon enough."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

Haley shrugs, "Life experience." she says, "Eventually, things start to get better. It's the law of averages."

**-xx-**

The masquerade ball seems to be an even bigger hit than either Haley or Peyton had expected. Dinner had been amazing and everyone had raved. OneRepublic's the first band up and the dance floor is full.

Chris Keller seems to be a surprisingly good host, engaging the audience every time he steps up to the podium. In fact, Quinn James appears to be particularly enthralled by his charms, even agreeing to dance with him for a couple of songs.

"Cheers to a kid-free night," Nathan says, bringing champagne over for Haley, Jake and Rachel. "I love the rugrats, but we needed a little grown-up fun."

Jake grins, presses a kiss to the redhead's bare shoulder. "I second that," he says. "How 'bout a dance, babe?" He asks, leading Rachel off to the dance floor.

Haley drags Nathan along as well, "Try not to step on my feet, honey." She teases.

Clay makes small-talk with Chris and waits until Brooke finally sits down alone. This is his chance, he decides, and he makes his way over to her.

"B., do you mind if I sit?" Clay asks with a hopeful tone, hands tucked in his pants' pockets.

Brooke sighs, "What am I gonna say, _no_?"

Clay grins, straddles the chair next to hers, "Snarky as ever I see."

Brooke gives him a once-over. "Nice mask, Lone Ranger," the brunette scoffs.

Clay smiles at the reference, thinking that even when they aren't talking, they're still in sync. "C'mon, are you really never gonna talk to me again?"

"I'm thinking about it." Brooke replies, checking out her nails as if they were far more interesting than they actually are.

"Think how boring your life will be without me in it," Clay nudges his knee against hers, turns serious for a second. "Please talk to me. I'm an idiot. I should've told you about Logan from the beginning. I know you wouldn't have judged my situation."

Brooke uncrosses her arms, looks at him earnestly, "No, I wouldn't have." she says, "I can understand complicated. You _know_ that."

"I _do_ know that." Clay nods, looks down at his hands, "I just..." he sighs, "You used to look at me like I was amazing. And I didn't want you to think I was less than that. I liked being the guy that could always make you smile and take you away from it all. I guess I just didn't want anything to change between us."

Brooke cracks a smile, "And you think finding out you're a dad would've really changed things between us?"

"Kids change everything, Dimples," Clay grins, "It's not a bad thing, it's just...different." He shrugs, "Look, I respect you too much to make any excuses. You deserve better than that."

Brooke blinks, "I deserved the truth, Clay."

"You did. And I let you down." Clay reaches for her hand, "You think you can forgive me?"

It takes Brooke a second, but she decides not to pull away. "No more lies?"

Clay nods, says seriously, "Cross my heart and hope to die." He assures her with that lopsided grin she knows and loves.

"I've missed you." Brooke admits.

Clay says, "I'm pretty sure I missed ya more, Dimples." He shrugs, "Y'know I don't function as well without you."

"Yes, I'm aware." Brooke chuckles, then looks down at her hands once more, "There's something I need to tell you. Luke and I, we've been seeing each other and..."

Clay nods, "I know." he says, letting the silence stretch between them for a few seconds. "I just want you to be happy, babe. I can't stand it when you're not happy. It kinda breaks my heart."

Brooke smiles, pulling him in for a hug and burying her face in the crook of his neck, "I really did miss you, Clay Evans."

"Yeah," Clay wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, he clears his throat. "Yeah, I missed you, too, Brooke Davis."

They're both smiling earnestly when they finally pull apart, both feeling a little bit back to center having made peace with each other once more.

"Hey," Rachel says, grinning at the sight of the pair reunited, "Uh, Brooke, there's some press here. They want you for some pictures real quick. Apparently both you and Nathan are very big cash draws for the donors."

Brooke nods, putting on her game face, "Okay," she says, "Duty calls."

Rachel takes the now-empty seat, pats Clay's arm. "You two good?"

"Good enough."

"What'd you tell her?"

"That I'm an idiot and I'm sorry and I know she deserves better."

Rachel nods slowly, following along to his words, "And what did you _want_ to tell her?"

"That she's right. That she should expect more. That from the man in her life, she should expect everything. Y'know, trust and support and love. That he'll be there for her, unconditionally, no matter what happens." Clay half-grins, "And sex, too. Great sex. I mean, you know, she should get everything. And I wanted to tell her that I'll give her everything. The whole package, right down to the white picket fence if that's what she wants. I wanna give it all to her."

Rachel leans back in her chair, "Damn," she says, impressed, "That's a good speech. You'd have won me over for sure."

"I'm done, Ray," Clay says decisively, "I mean it, I can't keep pining after Brooke. I can be her friend and I can have her back, but I need to move on. This isn't me. I'm not gonna be one of those guys who's stuck waiting for something that's never gonna happen."

Rachel pats his arm, "I know. I get it." She says, "I'm sorry, though."

Clay glances away, spots Brooke posing with Lucas and Nate and Haley for some pictures. "Yeah," he says, looking down at his feet, "Me too."

**-xx-**

Clay sits at the bar and chucks his mask off. He really did feel like a douche wearing it. "Dude, Irish car bomb," he tells the bartender, "Keep 'em coming, will ya? I'm gonna need a lot of liquid courage tonight."

"Make that two." Peyton sits on the stool next to his, her mask still on. "You look like fun."

Clay grins, "I've been told that many times before." He says, "And I can assure you I'm very fun. Guaranteed to satisfy, actually."

"Cheers to that," Peyton sips the drink slowly, "How do you like blondes?"

"As a matter of fact, once upon a time, blondes were my specialty." Clay offers, "But this isn't gonna happen, darlin'."

Peyton kinks her eyebrows, "What? I don't meet the height limit?"

"Not at all," Clay says, "But you're Peyton Sawyer."

"Good eye. Who're you?"

"Clay Evans."

Peyton nods, suddenly catching up, "Brooke's Clay."

"Yeah, that'd be me."

Peyton scoffs, "Well, Brooke's off playing family with my ex-husband." She says bitterly, inching a hand up his thigh, "So I'm thinking she won't mind."

"I'm pretty sure she would," Clay knocks her hand away delicately, "And even if she wouldn't, I'm still not doing this with you." He figures another guy switching over from her to Peyton would only tug at the worse of Brooke's insecurities and he refuses to do that to her.

Peyton huffs, clearly annoyed, "Just what is it about Brooke? Lately all I can seem to do is come second-best to her." Sure, once upon a time they'd been best friends, but over time they'd drifted apart and now the rift seems like an uncrossable schism that can never be mended. There was no point denying it anymore; at some point their friendship had started to become a zero-sum game. And up until now, Peyton had always been on the plus column.

My, oh, my how the tables had turned.

"Maybe you oughta reflect on yourself, then," Clay offers vaguely, "'Cause I really don't think your life is meant to be a competition, with Brooke or with anyone else for that matter. So Luke-ass bailed. Big deal. You move on. You find something better for yourself. I'm certain you can do better than him."

Peyton raises an eyebrow, "And here I thought you were just a pretty face."

"What can I say," Clay shrugs, "I'm feeling inspired tonight. See ya around, darlin'."

**-xx-**

She's officially had way too much to drink, that much is certain.

Yep, Peyton Sawyer is way past three sheets to the wind.

It must've been the pretty boy with the _blueblueblue_ (a blue so different than Lucas' blue) eyes who'd gotten her started on the Irish car bombs. But that's not the point.

No, the point is that Peyton is absolutely inebriated.

That's probably what fuels the desperate act of planting one on Jake Jaglieski right in the middle of the stage. To say that the misplaced kiss set off a commotion would be the understatement of the year.

Because Rachel Gatina goes from zero to ballistic on the skinny blonde bitch in under five seconds flat.

"YOU PATHETIC, DESPERATE SKANK!"

Brooke and Clay had their arms looped around the Rachel's waist, holding her back from pouncing on Peyton. The redhead had lightning-fast reflexes and she'd managed to get at least three good hits in before they'd pulled her off the skinny blonde.

"OH FUCK OFF, RACHEL!"

Nathan and Lucas held back Peyton, who was clawing at their arms, desperate to break free and land a few hits on the fiery redhead in retaliation for the last swing which was certain to leave a mark.

Ever the voice of reason, Haley steps in between them, ready to play referee. "EVERYONE NEEDS TO CALM DOWN," she raises her voice over the dueling women's shrieks, attempting to make the peace.

Meanwhile Chris Keller stands off on a corner, jumping up and down excitedly while asking for someone to throw jell-o on them. To which Jake responds by slamming his elbow into the singer's ribcage, muttering: "Pipe down, idiot, or I'll let Ray kick _your_ ass."

Haley recruits Quinn and together they drag Peyton off towards the bathroom in an attempt to sober her up a bit.

None of this seems to appease Rachel, however, and she still wants to finish what the skinny blonde bitch started.

"Jesus, Rae, calm down," pleads Brooke, trying to get her to sit down. But despite her best efforts, the redhead will not ease up.

Finally Brooke relents and lets Jake work his magic. She approaches Lucas, lets out a sigh, "Well, that escalated quickly."

"Yeah," Lucas nods, scratched the back of his head. "I don't know what got into Peyton. I can't believe she's behaving like this."

Brooke shrugs a shoulder, "Desperate times, I guess," she offers semi-seriously.

Rachel walks over with Jake, and he must have worked his magic well because she appears to be much calmer. "Bitch still hiding out?"

Brooke chuckles at the comment, but Lucas frowns. "Jesus, Rachel, relax. Why is everything such a problem with you?"

Rachel raises a hand to halt him, "No one's asking you to butt in, _Sparky_," she barks at him dismissively. "I've already told you the best you can do for everyone is to disappear back to wherever it is you came from. Just back off already."

Lucas rolls his eyes in annoyance — he's officially fucking tired of having to put with the redhead's attitude. "How about _you_ back off, Ginger — I don't know what your problem is with me, but whatever it is, Brooke's all grown up now! She doesn't need a guard-dog."

"Oh my god, cut it out, both of you," Brooke rubs her temples, a sudden headache starting up.

Haley steps in then, tugs at Lucas' arm, "Um, Peyton wants to leave, but she's asking for you, Luke..."

Brooke lets out a scoff, arms crossed over her chest. "Figures," she mutters as she walks away.

"Told ya," Rachel huffs, "That blonde bitch is nothing but trouble."

Lucas rolls his eyes at her before going after Brooke, though he does manage to hear the redhead call him an asshole before he's out of earshot.

"Hey, hold on a minute," the brooder reaches for the brunette's arm and spins her around. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped at Rachel. I know she's your best friend, but she's been pushing me for weeks now..."

Brooke shakes him off, "It's not _about_ Rachel." She says, shakes her head. "We're never gonna get a fresh start, are we? The past is always gonna be there, waiting to pull us back in. And Peyton's always gonna be asking for you and I'm always gonna feel this way. It's like a never-ending cycle."

"I know we've been through this before, and I know I let you down, Brooke. But I was a kid then, and I'm a man now. When I tell you that I want to be with you, I'm not lying. I mean it. I am not leaving you. No matter who else is asking for me." Lucas assures her, his navy-blue eyes earnest, "Look, Peyton, she's always gonna be Sawyer's mom, so she's always gonna be in my life, but I wanna be with _you_."

Brooke blinks, finally looks up to meet his eyes, "For keeps?" she asks shyly, a hint of a smile across her lips.

Lucas cradles her face gently and smiles, "For keeps." He assures her, nodding.

Brooke chuckles, "_Wow_." She exclaims softly, dimples full blown.

"You wanna get outta here?" Lucas asks, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

"Lead the way, Scott."

**-xx-**

Lucas arrives home with Brooke and Sawyer. The brunette carries the sleeping little girl against her hip and she offers to be the one to tuck her in.

"Sure, babe," The brooder agrees with a smile, enjoying the way Brooke's taken to his daughter. "I'll pour us something to drink." He's scavenging the drawers for a corkscrew when he spots an envelope with his name written in Sharpie.

Brooke steps out of Lucas' former bedroom and smiles, dimples poking out, "She didn't even stir when I put her down." A frown creases her features when she immediately realizes something's wrong with the brooder. "Hey, what's wrong? What is it?"

"She's gone." Lucas says quietly, tossing the note onto the kitchen table. "She took everything and she's just...gone."

Brooke kinks her eyebrows, "What do you mean?" She reaches for the note and eyes it over, reading it twice to make sure she understood it right. "Oh my god — Peyton's _gone_."


	14. I Won't Always Love What I'll Never Have

**AN: Surprised and excited that so many of you were waiting for an update on this story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Hope I don't disappoint. Anyway, this is kinda of a filler chapter. I'm trying to wrap this story up soon since I don't really want to drag it out. If there's anything you wanna see happen before it all ends, now's the time to speak up. I'll try to keep updating at least semi-regularly. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**I Won't Always Love What I'll Never Have**

"If there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it walls, and we will furnish it with soft, red interiors, from the inside out, and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweler's felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does."

―Jonathan Safran Foer

**-xx-**

Dark lashes flutter as hazel eyes struggle to adjust to the sunlight that pours into the bedroom in between the blinds. Brooke rolls onto her back and stretches her arms over head, a small yawn on her lips. She makes a mental note to get some curtains sometime this week, something to make the room a little cozier. Since Karen had left, the place has been in serious need of some decorating TLC.

The brunette steps into the kitchen like a zombie; she has never been a morning person, at least not without a heavy dose of caffeine in her system.

The brooder sits at the table absentmindedly browsing the morning paper, but unable to really focus on what he's reading. Last night's news still have his head spinning.

Brooke hadn't slept particularly well last night — Lucas spent most of the night tossing and turning, occasionally heading downstairs to peek in on Sawyer.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Brooke offers, moving to sit on his lap.

Lucas leans back into his chair, "I can't even string them together yet. I have _no_ idea how to break this to Sawyer. I mean, Peyton was supposed to take her for the day, and—oh, crap!" He frowns, the realization that normal life keeps going even though the rug has been swept from under him hits him like train. "I'm supposed to meet with the contractor at ten to finalize the new plans for TRIC. Damn it... This is such a mess! How could she be so damn selfish? She has a_ kid_. Sawyer is hers. How do you walk away from that? What am I even supposed to say? '_Oh, I'm sorry, honey. Mommy had something better to do so she bailed on you._' What the hell was Peyton thinking? Oh, I know—_nothing_! She is such a selfish bitch."

"Hey, calm down, Luke."

Agile fingers run slowly through flaxen locks as Brooke presses a soft kiss to his left temple, moving down to his nose, his scruffy cheek, his lips; she can feel his breathing steadying and some of the ice in his blue eyes appears to be melting.

Brooke links her wrists around his neck, rests her forehead against his. "Look, this isn't gonna be easy. I'm not gonna defend Peyton, but cursing her out isn't going to help the situation. The best thing we can do is just be there for Sawyer and try to keep things as normal as possible." She offers calmly and rationally, attempting to keep level-headed and be the voice of reason. "I'm here, you know. For whatever you need. And I can take Sawyer for the day so you can make your meeting. It'll be fine. We can do this, Luke."

Lucas sighs, wraps his arms around her trim waist. "Thank you, Brooke. You have no idea how much that means to me." He says earnestly, "I love you."

"Yeah," Brooke flashes him a half-smile, "I know." She leans forward, presses a kiss to his lips.

Blonde eyebrows kink together, a small frown marring the brooder's features for only a second before a squeaky voice bursts the couple out of their early morning discussion.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Sawyer Scott bursts out of her bedroom clad in her Wonder Woman pajamas and jumps onto her father's lap, joining Brooke. "Mownin'!" She greets, grinning excitedly. "Aunt Bwooke, why you have no pants?"

Brooke stands up, attempt to subtly pull down Lucas' pajama top to cover more of her body than it actually does, but it's all to no avail. So Brooke just says the first thing that comes into her mind.

"Your Daddy took 'em, Peewee," the brunette says casually, picking the little girl up and blowing a kiss on her cheek, "What do ya think about spending the day with me? We can grab some breakfast, draw, I'll even let you handle the cash register at the store today. How's that sound?"

"Yay!" Sawyer's little arms circle Brooke's neck, hugging her tightly. "What about momma?"

Lucas does his best to put on a brave face, flashing his daughter his most dazzling smile. "Come here, thumbkin," he lifts her out of Brooke's arms and sits her down on the table in front of him. "Look, honey, mommy was...well, she wasn't feeling very good and she decided to take a trip. Uh, this means you might not see her for a while. Do you understand?"

Sawyer frowns in that way little kids do when they just can't comprehend what's going on around them. "Mommy gone?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"When she back?"

Lucas clears his throat and looks at his feet; he opens and closes his mouth several times, unable to get out the necessary words to form a coherent sentence. Brooke kneels down next to him, turns the toddler around so they're looking each other eye to eye. She's always liked that about kids, how they're not afraid of eye-contact and how they never hesitate to ask the tough (sometimes scary) questions.

"The truth is we're not sure, Peewee. But I know your mommy loves you. In fact, I know you're her favorite person in the whole entire world."

Brooke figures she isn't really lying. Despite this completely shitty move, she still believes that Peyton truly does love Sawyer and that, at some point, she _has_ to come back for her.

"You stay?"

Lucas snaps back to reality then, "Yeah, thumbkin," he nods. "I'm staying with you. Always." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Daddy's never gonna leave you. I promise."

Neither Brooke nor Lucas take the liberty to promise that Peyton will come back, but Sawyer doesn't really notice that.

**-xx-**

Jake Jaglieski stands by the kitchen archway, a grin on his lips as he watches his girlfriend dance around in his boxers.

The redhead's crimson locks are tucked up in a messy bun, a few stray tresses cascading down her shoulders. The Limousines' 'Internet Killed the Video Star' blares from a tiny radio perched on what's meant to be a spice rack. Her hips swirl to the beat of the song and he likes the way she shakes her ass as she reaches for different things around the counter and cabinets.

There's something sexy about the way Rachel likes to do things to the rhythm of music; things like cooking and laundry and showering and even sex.

"Mornin', babe," Jake's arms circle the redhead's trim waist, his chest resting on her bare shoulder. "You makin' breakfast?" He leaves a trail of wet kisses along the freckles that paint her clavicle.

High-pitched giggles escape Rachel's lips at the contact; Jake's kisses have a way of leaving her breathless. "Yeah," she says, "French toast. You like?"

"I like."

Jake spins her around swiftly, planting a kiss on her lips. Firm hands grip her waist as nimble fingers sneak under the hem of her tank-top, digging into the exposed skin and pulling their bodies closer together. Within seconds he's hoisted her up onto the counter, her strong legs wrapped around his waist.

They're both topless, licking whipped cream off some very interesting places when Chris Keller wakes up in the living room couch and pokes his head in the kitchen.

"NICE!" Chris Keller rubs his hands together like excited little boy. "Take her bra off!" He encourages.

"CHRIS!" Jake howls, turning around to pummel his friend. He tosses his t-shirt to the redhead so she can cover up and leaps over the counter impressively, managing to put Chris in a headlock.

Rachel laughs, "Wait!" She says, sliding on the oversized shirt. "Don't kill him. He was wasted last night and I told him he could crash on our couch. I forgot he was there, babe. My bad."

Jake lets his friend go and sighs. He once was way more mellow, and then Chris Keller came into his life.

"OH, COME ON, DUDE," Chris howls and jumps back to stand in front of a mirror, "We've talked about this — you _gotta_ watch the hair, man!"

"And you gotta _not_ be a perv around my girlfriend!" Jake volleys, "You need to get your own place."

Chris raises his hands in surrender, "Fine, fine — _uncle_." he says, "I'm out. You'll help me look for a place later?"

Jake smiles, "Call me in the afternoon."

"Done."

"See ya."

Jake scratches the back of his head, "You need to stop letting him crash here so often. He's got co-dependency issues."

Rachel pecks his lips, "I've got a thing for taking in strays, babe." She winks, "I'm gonna go check on breakfast."

Jake follows her into the kitchen. "We need to talk."

Rachel serves up two plates, French toast and bacon, and spins around to face him. "You breaking up with me?" She asks, half-teasingly.

"No!" Jake throws his head back laughing, "Come on, are you kidding me? Why would I ever break up with the hottest MILF in all of Tree Hill?"

"Hey, don't sell me short," Rachel winks as she slaps his ass, "I'm the hottest MILF in all of North Carolina."

Jake grins, pulling her into him, "My mistake," he says. "Terrible oversight on my part."

Rachel sighs, "What's up, Smiley?" She asks, resting her palms on his bare chest.

"Well, summer's coming to a close, and I have to go get Jenny. She lives with me during the school year. I've been thinking...maybe we can move to Tree Hill. Officially. I mean, I don't have job in L.A. anymore and before all this, I'd thought about maybe moving down to Savannah again. But Hales is gonna need help running the label, nevermind what it takes to manage Chris... And there's you, and Jackson. _Us_." He shrugs, "I don't know, we've got a pretty good going here, and I don't really want it to end. Look, I know I moved in 'cause I was crashing here most of the time and you didn't want me to waste money on a hotel. It was very practical and I am very grateful. I'm just wondering if you'd also like it to be more permanent. I know it's a lot to consider; it's a big step from having your boyfriend crash for a few weeks to having your boyfriend and his kid move in. You got Jackson to think about, and I respect that. Either way, I'd like to stick around here. I like my life better with you in it."

Rachel kinks her eyebrows, "You talk a lot. You're a very wordy guy." She says, "You're serious about sticking around? What if this doesn't work out?"

"I'm dead serious. And if it doesn't work out..." Jake shrugs, "Well, I'm not really planning on this _not_ working out. In fact, if I didn't think it'd freak you out, I'd say I love you right now."

Rachel chuckles softly, "You sure I'd freak out?" She teases, "I think you ought to know better than that."

"Fine." Jake says with a languid grin, "Then I love you. And I want to stay here, with you and Jackson. What do you think, would you guys be good with that?"

"With you sticking around?" Rachel asks, linking her wrists around his neck and nodding slowly. "Yeah. I think we'd like that. In fact, I know we'd like that very much."

"Good. Then I'd love to stay."

Their lips find each other once more and this time around Jake hoists her up onto a table. Rachel leans back, pulling Jake on top of her as she goes. It's easy to pick up where they'd left off before.

"Hey, Rach," calls out Clay as he lets himself in, Logan walking in front of him. "We're—_whoa_!" His hand flies down to cover Logan's eyes and he shuts his own eyes tight. "Heh, did you forget I was dropping by this morning?"

Jake rolls off the redhead with a groan. "Morning, Clay," he slides his boxers on and pecks his girlfriend's lips. "I'm thinking this isn't happening right now, babe. I'm gonna go get dressed."

"Yeah," Rachel finishes dressing herself up, checking herself out in the mirror quickly. "You can look now. What're you doing here?"

Clay opens his mouth, but Logan beats him to it: "What were you doin'?"

"Playing wrestling." Rachel answers automatically.

It's the first time Clay has seen her face turn as red as her hair. He's amused by the sight. "Sara's stuck in another meeting. Nate's signing his contract today and then we're driving down to Durham to check out a prospect. You said you could stay with Logan for the day. Remember?"

_Crap_!

Rachel had forgotten all about that. "Of course I remember!" She exclaims confidently, "In fact, I made us breakfast. You like french toast, Wolverine?"

"Yeah!" Logan nods excitedly.

"Have at it, then," Rachel says, pointing a thumb towards the living-room. "You can eat and watch cartoons while I change."

Clay grins, "Behave, kid," he says, high-fiving his boy. "Either me or your mom will pick you up later. Bye, thanks, Rae!"

Jake walks out of the bedroom, sliding on his jacket. "I gotta go. What time do you get off today?"

"Problem." Rachel announces, "Jax is going to playgroup today and I gotta catch a plane to New York for a meeting, but apparently I'd promised to watch Logan for the day. Any chance you can take him with you?"

Jake groans, "I would, but we're doing a walk-through of TRIC with the contractor today. I'm not sure it's the best place for him to run around right now."

"No, definitely not." Rachel sighs, then pulls him in for a kiss. "It's fine. I'll deal. Have a good day, sweetie."

Jake smiles, "You, too, honey." He replies, then chuckles, "We're good at the domestic thing, aren't we?"

"Oh, yeah!"

**-xx-**

The C-o-B store is usually pretty empty in the mornings since most of the customers come in at noon.

Brooke and Sawyer sit indian-style on the counter, facing each other.

"Hahahaha!" giggles spill from luscious red lips as the brunette throws her head back laughing along with the toddler. "C'mon, again! Again!"

Sawyer nods and gets ready for another round. They start the rhythm slowly and quickly pick up the pace.

"_Concentration! Concentration is the name. Keep the rhythm. Keep the rhythm just the same. Subject. Boys' names._"

"Xander." The little girl starts it off.

"Rick."

"Keith."

"Heath."

"Harry."

"Y... _ugh_!" Brooke groans, laughing again. "You keep stumping me, Peewee!"

Sawyer giggles, "Me win!"

Rachel bursts into the store with the sandy-haired boy in her arms, "Thank god you're here!"

"And what're you doing here?" Brooke asks, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion. "You are supposed to be at the airport, about to get on a plane to New York."

Rachel sighs and throws her head back with a groan, "It's been a weird morning." She says, preferring to avoid the details. "Can you just watch Logan for the day?"

"Hey, pretty girl!" Logan greets with smile, remembering her as his Daddy's pretty friend.

Something about the way the little boy says those words tugs at Brooke's strings. She blinks and hesitates for a second before snapping out of it. "Y-yes." She nods. "Yes, of course." She clears her throat and picks Logan up. "C'mon, kiddo. We're playing Concentration and Sawyer is kicking my ass. Why don't you take over for me?" She sets him down on the counter and lets Sawyer explain the game to him.

"Thanks, B." Rachel lets out a sigh of relief, "I owe you one."

**-xx-**

You'd think having two kids running around would make work difficult, but Logan and Sawyer are surprisingly well behaved. They play on the counter, smile pretty when the customers coo and aw at them and take naps on the back-office's futon. Brooke sneaks a peek and spots them asleep, curled up under one of Jax's Avengers' blankets.

The brunette is counting out the cash-register when a woman walks in. "Sorry, we're closed," she says, "But if you make it quick I can get you in before I finish up here."

"Oh, I'm not here to shop," the blonde says as a rack of dresses catches her eyes, "Though the clothes here are fabulous. Did you design them all?"

Brooke nods and flashes her a dimpled smile. "Yes, thank you." She says, "So, if you're not here to shop, how can I help you?"

"Are you Rachel?"

Brooke shakes her head, "No."

The blonde nods in understanding. "Is Rachel here?"

"Rachel is in New York."

"Well, then, I guess it's time I start freaking out since Rachel is supposed to be babysitting my son today."

"Your son? —oh! You're Sara! No, yeah, she was, but there was a scheduling conflict so I took over. Come on, Logan's napping in the back."

"Great," Sara smiles, "Sorry, I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Sara Kay."

Brooke shakes her hand politely, "Brooke Davis, pleasure to meet you."

"Ah! So you're Brooke Davis, huh?" Sara eyes the brunette curiously, almost as if she's sizing her up.

"Last time I checked."

"Sorry, it's just...Clay's mentioned you before. I've been curious to meet you for a while now."

"Oh..."

"Nothing bad, don't worry," Sara clarifies, "It's nice to finally put a face to the name is all. You've had quite the effect on him, you know."

Brooke clears her throat uncomfortably, "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Sara smiles knowingly, "You will."

**-xx-**

Clay and Logan are sitting on the living room floor in front of the coffee table. Clay's teaching the kid how to play Checkers and Logan's already ahead, 3-1.

"You win again!" Clay says, clearly impressed. He'd figured he still had a couple of years at pretending to let Logan win at games, but apparently his son is way ahead of the curve. He's a proud father right about now. His baby boy's a genius.

There's a knock at the door, and Sara lets herself in without waiting for a response.

Logan's eyes light up at the sight of his mother. "Mommy!" He runs towards her, hugging her legs.

Sara picks him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and raising him over her head. "Hey, baby boy," she smiles, "Did you and Daddy have a good time together today?"

Logan nods excitedly and Sara wonders how much sugar did Clay let him have today. "Great. Go get your stuff, babe. We're gonna be late."

Clay and Sara stand side by side, watching the boy run up the stairs to fetch his backpack.

"He's getting so big." She offers, "I could barely lift him up just now."

Clay nods, "Yeah, he is." He beams proudly, "Hey, I put a few extra toys in his bag. A surprise for when he gets home."

"You spoil him."

"Eh, I do what I can."

Sara turns to face him, "This was good. Logan had a great time, and it was nice to see where you're living these days." She says, "I'll miss you."

"You finally gonna tell me why you came down here?" Clay asks, still curious about whatever prompted this impromptu visit.

"I've already told you." Sara assures him, "I honestly came here for work. I've been driving back and forth between Chapel Hill and Wilmington trying to seal a deal. I brought Logan along because I thought you'd both enjoy the time together. And yes, I've found myself missing you lately, Clay. I don't think that's so unexpected or rare. After all, we have a child together. I see a lot of you in Logan every single day. And I was in love with you once. Hell, maybe a part of me will always be in love with you. Who knows? Either way, I'm sorry my visit threw you off so much. But I assure you I didn't come here with any hidden intentions. I don't lie to you, Clay. I hope you haven't forgotten that."

Clay half-smiles, "No, I haven't. I'm sorry. It's the first time you've done this, though. I'm not used to you showing up out of the blue anymore. I do miss you sometimes, Sara. And you know I miss Logan every single day." He admits, "But I'm not in love with you anymore. I'm not trying to hurt you, 'cause I do love you, you're the mother of my child. We have a bond, a whole entire life, that will always connect us. So I do love you; but I also know that what we had isn't gonna repeat itself." After a beat he flashes her a playful grin, adds, "And trust me, not marrying me is probably the smartest decision you've ever made, darling."

Sara shakes her head. "That's always annoyed me about you."

"What?"

"Your ability to sell yourself short." Sara replies, stepping closer to him. Her dainty hands fall on his chest, her nimble fingers caressing the soft cotton of his polo as she takes him in one last time. His hands find her waist, holding her in place. "Take care of yourself, Clay."

"I will." Clay nods.

"Do you promise?"

"Yes." Clay leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

Sara lets out a sigh, pulls away from the familiar comfort of his arms. "I'll have Logan call you when we arrive."

"I'd love that."

"Goodbye."

Clay whispers, "Bye, Sara."


	15. All I Want Is Everything

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**All I Want Is Everything**

"It is easy to love people in memory; the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you."

―John Updike

**-xx-**

It's a crisp North Carolina afternoon and the sun is just receding beyond the perimeter of the James-Scott backyard. The weather is perfect for the end of summer and it's definitely the best time of the day to be outside, just soaking up the rays.

Rachel sits suspended over the water on the far edge of the diving board, absentmindedly skimming a tabloid magazine through dark-tinted Ray Bans. Jackson is perched on a swimming-board, wearing his brand-new Iron Man swim-trunks and matching water wings on his arms to keep him afloat. Nathan's been pushing him around the pool and making motorboat noises, sufficiently entertaining the kid for a while now. Meanwhile Jamie and Quinn swim laps around the pool, racing to see which one of them is faster.

"Refreshments are here," calls out Haley. She carries a tray with cookies, a pitcher of homemade lemonade and a stack of Solo cups. She sets it down on the table and serves up two glasses. "Come and get 'em when you're hungry, guys!"

Quinn's the first one to climb out of the pool. "Keep working on that front crawl, short stack," she calls out to Jamie.

"Hey, Rach, come down from there!" calls out Haley, waving a glass of lemonade.

The redhead does as she's told and joins the James sisters on the patio table. "Any chance you spiked this for the grown-ups?"

"No, this is all kid-friendly, but the I have the pot brownies baking in the oven and the jell-o shot are cooling in the fridge." Replies Haley matter-of-factly.

Rachel kinks her eyebrows, eyeing the copper-haired mother curiously.

"Seriously?" Quinn asks.

"No!" says Haley, biting into a cookie. "Jeez, it's like you're still teenagers."

The pair of women giggle and Quinn reaches for one of the cookies, "No shame in asking."

Haley rolls her eyes, "Hey, where's Jake today?" she asks, turning her attention to the redhead. "You two have been pretty inseparable lately."

"He went to pick up Jenny," Rachel says, takes a deep breath, "I kinda wanted to tell Brooke first, but she's busy so I guess you'll be the first to hear: Jake and I are moving in together. Officially. Kids and all."

Quinn pouts her lips, "You _sure_?"

"Yeah, I'm positive."

"Damn it!" exclaims Quinn as Haley bursts out laughing.

"Pay up, Quinnie."

Quinn rolls her eyes, "Fine. I owe you twenty bucks." She relents.

"You two made a bet about me?"

Haley nods, "Yeah. I said he'd move in before the end of summer and Quinn said it'd take at least another month." She gloats, "She just refuses to accept that I _know_ things."

Rachel shakes her head and lets out a chuckle, "You two suck."

Nathan walks up to them with Jackson sitting on his shoulders. "What's up, ladies," he greets.

Rachel jumps to her feet, lifting her boy off from Nathan, "Hey, rock star," she grins, "Did you teach Uncle Nate how to swim?"

Jackson nods excitedly then wraps his arms around his mother's neck, hugging her tightly.

"Kid took me to school on the water." Nathan grins, leaning down to kiss his wife. "I'm gonna get the grill going, babe."

"Good, 'cause we're hungry," pipes in Quinn. "I'm gonna race Jamie a few more times before lunch."

They all watch as the lanky brunette takes a few long strides and executes a long racing dive into the pool.

"Quinnie splash!" Jax giggles, clapping at the sight.

Clay makes his entrance in his Quicksilver boardshorts, holding a bottle of Grey Goose in each hand. "Fun's here!" he calls out with his best lopsided grin. "And I brought booze!"

"Halle-freaking-lujah," mutters Rachel, propping Jax against her hip. "I'll get the glasses."

**-xx-**

"CLAY, I MEAN IT — BACK OFF."

"YOU'RE DOIN' IT WRONG, DUDE. WELL-DONE DOES NOT MEAN BURNT."

"UGH! I'M ABOUT TO BEAT YOUR ASS WITH THIS SPATULA, MAN. SERIOUSLY!"

"I feel like we should do something, but I'm not sure what..." Rachel and Quinn sit side by side. They've been watching Clay and Nathan argue over who's in charge of the barbecue for the past twenty minutes and their yelling has gotten progressively louder.

Quinn nods. "It's like a really weird sitcom."

"YOU NEED TO CHILL, MAN."

"AND YOU NEED TO _BACK_ OFF!"

"JEEZ, YOU'RE LIKE THE HAMBURGER STALIN!"

"Okay, _enough_!"

Rachel and Quinn don't quite catch what Haley says after that, but they watch as she takes the spatula away from Nathan and points over to a couple of chairs.

In seconds, both Nathan and Clay slump away and sit down, only slightly pouting as Haley takes over grill duty.

It's at that moment that Sawyer runs into the backyard in her bathing suit and flip-flops. "Jamie! Jamie!" She calls out, rushing towards the slip-n-slide where Jamie is playing with Jackson.

"Be careful, Peewee!" Brooke appears right after her, two boxes in her hands. "I'm here and I brought pie." She announces with a dimpled smile. "Don't worry, they're store-bought. I haven't tried baking since the great almost-fire of 2009."

Rachel jumps to her feet, "Baby, you made it!" She exclaims, rushing to hug her brunette best friend. "C'mon, Quinn worked her magic with the blender and made Grey Goose icees, plus I totally spiked the melons Haley cut up when she wasn't looking. This party needs to liven up a bit."

Giggles fall from the brunette's lips, "You're bad!" she exclaims, "Are we the last ones here?"

"Yep." Rachel nods, "Is Luke-_ass_ with you?"

Brooke rolls her eyes at the dig. "He's overseeing the construction today. They officially started yesterday. Anyway, he should be here soon."

"Stuck you with the kid again, huh?"

"Quit it, Rae," Brooke mutters, "He didn't _stick me_ with Sawyer, okay. Things are a little weird right now, especially since Peyton pulled her disappearing act."

"Yeah, I know. I haven't seen you in over a week. You haven't been returning my calls. I'm trying really hard to be okay with you and Lucas, but this is _not_ okay, Brooke." Rachel says seriously, she shakes her head slowly. "I know you feel bad, and Peyton is a selfish cunt for leaving her daughter behind, but it's not your job to be that little girl's new mommy."

"That's not how it is."

"That's _exactly_ how it is." Cuts in Rachel, "You two have been together, what, two months? You were taking thing slow. Which was actually smart of you. But now he's got you practically living with him, taking care of that girl and playing the wife."

Brooke glares, "That is _not_ what I'm doing."

"You can't even see it, can you? It's like he _consumes_ you; the only thing you've done lately is be Lucas Scott's girlfriend. God, I hate that he can still do this to you!"

"Lucas hasn't done anything to me." Brooke protests, "Nothing has changed, Rachel."

Rachel shakes her head, "Of course nothing has changed. I just haven't seen you since the night of the masquerade, you haven't slept in your own bed for a week and a half, and you haven't spoken to Clay either. Everything's exactly the same." She says, sarcasm dripping from her voice like venom. "By the way, Jake and Jenny are moving in with me and Jackson. I'm gonna go get a drink." The redhead disappears inside, a look of disappointment marring her features.

Brooke throws her head back and lets out a groan of frustration. The push and pull of Lucas and Rachel is going to kill her, she's sure of that.

"Hi, Dimples."

The brunette whirls around to find Clay flashing her his best lopsided grin. There's something about that she finds comforting.

"Hey, Dopey," Brooke jumps into his arms, holding on tightly as he swings her from side to side.

Clay sets her down and offers her his arm as they stroll around the pool. "Heard you had to cover Rae's ass and watch Loge for the day — thanks for that, by the way. Kid really likes you."

Brooke smiles, "He totally kicked my ass playing Concentration." She says, "Ooh! Check it out, I got pictures." She pulls out her iPhone and they scroll through a bunch of pictures: Sawyer and Logan playing with a tiny basketball hoop; Brooke and Logan making funny faces for the camera; Logan teaching the girls how to make paper airplanes; Logan grinning from ear to ear as Brooke and Sawyer press a kiss to his cheeks.

Clay chuckles at the last one, "My kid, tip to tail, huh," he asks, amused. "Oh, I snagged you a red one." He hands her a Solo cup filled to the brim with an icy red substance. "I know that's your favorite color."

"I'm a little afraid to drink this, I gotta admit," Brooke says after examining the concoction for a few seconds.

Clay bites his lip, leaning close to her ear, "C'mon," he tempts, "_Haven't you ever done what you wanted rather than what's good for ya_?" He whispers, his warm breath tickling her ear and sending shivers down her spine.

It's been a while since she's had Clay in such close proximity and she's surprised to find that he can still unnerve her with these little gestures. Brooke smirks, takes long pull until she can feel the brain-freeze settling in. "Crap!" She presses the palm of her hand against her forehead in an attempt to ease the pain.

"Hey, easy, look at me," Clay speaks in a soothing tone, his cobalt-blue eyes piercing her hazel, "Just touch your tongue to the roof of your mouth and count to ten. It'll be over soon."

Brooke does as he says and squeezes her eyes shut until it passes. "Thanks," she smiles. "Hmm, I hope at least it turns my tongue a nice shade of red..."

"Let's check it out," Clay chuckles, his thumb and forefinger on her chin tilt her head back gently, "Open up, babe."

Brooke rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out for him.

"Perfect shade of red." Clay's hand moves to caress her cheek, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You look good today."

"I look good every day."

Clay shrugs a shoulder, "Can't argue that, darlin'." He clears his throat, "I haven't talked to you in a while. I've missed you."

"Yeah, things have been pretty hectic." Brooke blinks, looking down at her hands. "I've missed you, too. I feel bad I haven't called you lately."

Clay shrugs a shoulder, "Don't sweat it, Dimples. I know you're busy."

Brooke sighs, "Do you think I've changed?" She asks, "I mean, am I... Rachel says that I've let myself get consumed by Lucas or something. But I haven't." She looks away, "Have I?"

"Lucas..." Clay lets his voice trail off, pausing for a beat, "expects a lot," he finishes.

"What does that mean?"

Clay runs his fingers through her chocolate locks, smiles at her for a beat, "Uh, it means," he shrugs, "It means you're gonna get wet!"

Before Brooke can realize what's happening, Clay's strong arms are wrapped around her and he jumps into the pool, pulling her in with him.

"OH MY GOD! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" Brooke squeals as they resurface from underneath the water.

Clay throws his head back laughing, "You wouldn't," he says, "You love me!"

Brooke stares him down for a beat before smiling, "Maybe, but you're still dead!" She exclaims, jumping on top of him and pushing him under.

**-xx-**

The sun still hasn't quite gone down yet and the kids are back in the pool after waiting the Haley-mandated hour after eating half their weight in hot-dogs.

Nathan attempts to teach Sawyer the basics of wadding and swimming in the shallow end of the pool.

Rachel is back atop her throne on the diving board. This time Jackson sits between her legs while they play patty-cake.

Over in the deep end, Quinn and Jamie continue their racing. Brooke and Haley sit on the edge of the pool, their feet dipped in the warm water as they judge the competition. Clay arrives with the next round of drinks and sits in between the two women.

"Quinn is considerably taller than Jamie. How does he keep besting her?" Questions Haley, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I am a proud mother. Hell, maybe he'll join the swim team. But _how_ is he doing it? And I know Quinn is not letting him win 'cause she was bitching about it earlier."

Clay shrugs, "Dude's like a fish. His size gives him speed." He assesses, sipping his icee.

"Okay, I'm out," Nathan announces as he approaches the edge of the pool. "I need a drink. Someone take over kid-duty."

Haley giggles, "Fine, honey. I'll tag you out," she slaps Nathan's hands and he pulls her into the pool with him.

"Thanks, baby," Nathan pecks her lips before jumping out to take her place at the edge of the pool.

Haley winks up at him, "You can have my icee, too. It's good."

Brooke pushes herself off the edge and jumps in. "I'm gonna join Hales. You two have fun."

The men sit side by side in silence, watching as Haley and Brooke splash around with the toddler and float with the swimming board.

After a beat, Nathan nudges his friend's leg. "You've been pretty MIA for a while. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Same old, same old." Clay shrugs, "Sara and Logan left a few days ago so I'm a little bummed, I guess. 'Sides, I haven't wanted to make it awkward for you. I know Lucas is your big brother and everything."

Nathan rolls his eyes, "Yeah, but you're my best friend, Clay. That makes you family, too. You shouldn't stop coming around just because it's awkward."

"Thanks, dude. I'll keep that in mind."

"You better." Nathan nods, "So what happened with Sara? No flames rekindled or anything?"

"Nah, it just..." Clay takes a pull from his drink, "Y'know, we never really had any closure so we both just needed to say goodbye to that and officially let go. We left things on a good note. And I'll see her next month when I fly in for Loge's birthday."

"And Brooke?"

"Ah, y'know how that is. She's with Lucas now. It's just...not fun going after something you're never going to get." Clay shrugs, "That's why you've got to give up the ghost."

"I don't know, man. Haley's still concerned about things, so I guess I kind of am, too."

Clay snorts, "Jeez, it's like you're one person sometimes — Haley's the brain, you're the brawn."

Nathan rolls his eyes, "I'm about to shove your ass into this pool right now, dude." He chuckles, "Seriously, though. Don't disappear like that. Jamie's missed you. And I've kinda missed having you pestering me, too."

"Yeah, I know you love me, Nate. It's hard not to."

Nathan shakes his head and shoves his friend into the pool.

"What the hell!" Clay hollers as he comes up.

"You earned it." Nathan says with a sharp nod.

Brooke and Haley laugh from where they're sitting with Sawyer, watching the guys fooling around.

Clay climbs out of the pool and runs a hand over his hair and then he shakes his head like a big Labrador puppy. He looks adorable as his golden-brown locks send off water flying in every direction. He tugs at his t-shirt from the back of his neck to pull it off and Brooke watches as the droplets of water glisten down his chiseled chest all the way down to his tanned navel. For a second, she allows herself to admit she hasn't just missed him, she's also missed_ being_ with him—physically. She's missed touching him and being able to tangle her fingers in those soft locks and tugging his mouth to where she wants it and the feel of his expert hands roaming her body.

"Yo!" Haley snaps her fingers in front of the brunette's face. "Earth to Tigger!"

Brooke shakes her head, snapping out of it. "W-what?" She asks, confused, "I'm sorry, Hales. I didn't catch that."

"I asked if Luke wasn't gonna make it today," the copper-haired mother repeats. "I thought he'd be here by now. It's already getting dark."

"I texted him and he didn't answer. I guess he isn't gonna come." Brooke says, "And it is getting late. I should grab Sawyer. Can she shower here? I brought over a change of clothes."

"Yeah, sure."

Brooke picks Sawyer up and heads towards the house. "Cool. Thanks."

**-xx-**

Brooke lets herself into the Scott house with Sawyer asleep in her arms.

All in all, she's a pretty easy kid. A full day of playing always tires her out and when she's out, she's out like a light. Within minutes she's got the little girl all tucked in her bed. She remembers to turn on the night-light just in case, but Sawyer rarely needs it.

"Hey, you're home late," Lucas comments when Brooke walks into the bedroom, "How was the end-of-summer barbecue?"

"And you're home way too early," Brooke pouts, "Where were you? We waited on you and you never showed up."

Lucas shrugs, "Just tired. It was a long day." He says, "But I'm glad my girls had a good time. Do you wanna order in tonight? I don't really feel like cooking."

"We already ate." Brooke says, "Peewee's beat, I just tucked her in."

Lucas grins, "How about now I tuck you in? Though sleeping isn't really what I got mind."

"No, that's fine. I just..." Brooke clears her throat, "I'm gonna crash at my house tonight. I'm pretty beat." She leans down to peck his lips. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay."

Lucas stands up and goes after her, "Hey, you sure?" He asks. "I like waking up to you. And I know Sawyer loves it when you're here, too."

"Yeah, but I got stuff tomorrow. Work. And I'm gonna see if I can do something with Rachel tonight. Jake's out of town and she's feeling neglected by me so we could probably use a girls' night."

"Seriously?"

Brooke nods. "Yes. I'll call." She pecks his lips one more time before heading for the door.

**-xx-**

Clay is sprawled on a plush couch, one leg propped up on a leather ottoman. He has one hand on the TV remote, his other arm wrapped around Jax's shoulders as he explains something about the hull of the yachts to the toddler. The pair are intently watching a documentary about the winners of America's Cup, which Rachel has already declared to be dreadfully boring.

The redhead is in the kitchen currently beating cream and sugar into submission in order to bake a cake. She's stress-baking, as she usually does when she's in a tiff with Brooke.

"You know, by the time she realizes what a big mistake this is, it'll be too late."

Clay sighs, exchanging a glance with Jax, "You need to let it go, Rach."

"I can't just let it go. There is a reason that the one that got away, _got away,_" Rachel says defensively, "If they were meant to be in your life, they would be. It is that simple."

Clay rolls his eyes, "How do you _know_?"

"Because I'm somebody's one that got away!" Rachel exclaims, "Okay, I got away from Jackson's dad because that relationship was a dead-end street. I cared about him, I might've even loved him, but we weren't healthy for each other. I did what I had to do, I made the tough decision, and I found a great, dependable guy. Brooke should follow my lead instead of moving backwards."

Clay pauses the documentary, "Look, either way, you need to let Brooke off the hook about this. Because if you _are_ right, she's gonna need you. I know you're coming from a good place with all this, but berating her isn't gonna help. She needs to feel that she's got you in her corner, no matter what, no judgment."

"Well, there is _some_ judgment." Rachel offers, "And I get your point. I mean, I've thought about it, too."

"You know, there's a big difference between having a thought and actually acting on it." Clay offers vaguely.

"Yeah, there's also a big difference between saying you're going to change your ways and actually_ changing_ them." Rachel shoots, bringing the subject back to Lucas' shortcomings. "Mark my words — that relationship is going to end badly. Brooke is only gonna wind up getting hurt."

Clay sighs, "Right. I keep forgetting. Mother Rachel always knows best."

Rachel's LG jingles and vibrates in her pocket. The word _Brooke_ looms on the phone's tiny screen. "Speak of the devil," she mutters, hitting the answer button. "Bitch," she greets dryly.

"_Whore_," Brooke's tone is much friendlier. "_Look, I know you're mad and I admit it: I've been flaky lately. No excuses. Jake still outta town?_"

"Yeah, he doesn't get in until tomorrow. Why?"

"_I called Haley and got her to agree to watch Jax for the night. Come over. We'll have a girls' night in. Just us._"

Rachel sighs, "I can't, I'm swamped. I'm emptying out the spare bedroom for Jenny and I gotta get it done by tomorrow night."

"_So we get up early and hit your place. I'll even help._" Brooke offers, "_C'm_on_! I got a bunch of movies, a ton of our favorite old CDs and enough sugar and candy to work ourselves into a diabetic coma. You were right, okay? I've been out of touch lately. Let me make it up to you._"

"Fine." The redhead relents, "I'll drop in five-ish."

"_Great. See you then._"

Rachel hangs up, sliding the phone back into her pocket. "How do you feel about a movie night at Brooke's?"

"Am I actually invited?" Clay asks, only half-paying attention to the redhead's words.

"Of course."

Clay nods, "Then cool. I'm in." He says, "Hey, what happened to your iPhone?"

"I may or may not have slammed it against a wall after a game of Flappy Bird." Rachel mutters, "I don't really recall."

**-xx-**

Haley walks into the construction zone formerly known as TRIC and searches for Lucas.

The brooder sneaks up behind her, placing a hard-hat on her head. "Safety first." He says, pointing an admonishing finger at her.

"How do I look?" She asks, adjusting the hat.

"Like a very pretty safety hazard." Lucas chuckles, "C'mon, lets head into the back-office, which is pretty much the only place that's _not_ under construction right now."

Haley follows the blonde, mimicking his footwork so as to not step on anything she shouldn't. They settle down in the office and get right down to business.

"Okay, so I finished crunching the numbers last night," she says as she pulls out various spreadsheets. "Red Bedroom's insurance money covered the cost of replacing the damaged equipment, in fact we even managed to upgrade some of our dated gear so that's good. Among the equipment is also the sound system for TRIC. I already placed all the orders, this is just the paperwork you have to sign."

True to her OCD nature when it comes to work, Haley has different colored files with tabbed divisions for different documents. "TRIC is a different arrangement entirely. The insurance money covered the cost of new materials and the first couple of deposits for the contractor and his crew. This is were the masquerade's profits come along. Assuming the workers stick to the projected deadline, which looks like it might actually happen, I separated enough money into the payables account to cover their fees. I also put aside some money for the miscellaneous expenses — furniture, stage repairs, liquor — you know, the usual stuff. Basically, we should be covered in case of any eventualities."

Lucas chuckles, "I don't know how I ever got along without you, Hales," he wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yes. Good news actually." Haley replies, "We have a few thousand dollars left over and since work has been moving at such a rapid pace, Chris has been brainstorming some ideas for the reopening."

Lucas groans, "Ugh, I still can't stand that guy."

"Hey, I won't deny he's a weaselly little creature, but Jake vouches for him and his haggling doubled the auction profits from the masquerade." Haley states, "When it comes to raising funds, he's actually pretty great."

"Well, I trust your judgment. You've been dealing with all the logistics on this, so I will happily follow your lead. What's his idea?"

"Costume party," Haley replies, "Set up the bar, we're trying to recruit some bands to come play cheap, I think it'll actually be pretty great. Now, how's everything on your end?"

"Despite the venting of the wall, the structure is still pretty sound. It won't need any major alterations." Lucas says as he glances over his notes, "In fact, I think everything will be finished by the end of the month. Which means we should probably start coming up with some promos for the party. I guess we'll need to find another designer now that Peyton's gone AWOL."

"Still no word?"

"No, nothing. I have no idea where she'd even go. Derek's in Germany and I don't even know where her dad's stationed lately, but I don't think she'd go to either of them. Then again, what the hell do I know? I didn't think she'd abandon her daughter, either."

"I've noticed Brooke's been spending a lot of time with Sawyer." Haley comments offhand, "They seem to get along really well."

"Yeah, definitely. I don't what I would've done without her here. She's been amazing at handling Sawyer."

Haley nods slowly as she processes his words. "How're things with you two?"

"It's been good. Fine. I mean, I don't know, lately I get the feeling that she's kind of pulling away from me." Lucas sighs, "I have no idea why, though."

Haley lays a hand on his shoulder, "Luke, you know Brooke isn't a Peyton replacement for Sawyer, right? I mean, she still misses her mother. She was asking about Peyton yesterday and we danced around the subject like Baryshnikov, but that little girl is clever. She can definitely sense something's off. Brooke loves her, but she isn't her mother."

"Jesus, Haley, of course I know that!"

"I don't think you understand how hard the last year was for Brooke. There was the Angie thing, and then Sam came and left, and I don't really know how much she invested in the idea of a family with Julian, but I know at some point in the last two years she buried her dream of being a mom. And I know that was painful for her. I think you need to take it slow with her. Your relationship is still new and you haven't made a real commitment yet, and Brooke is getting attached to that little girl. Hell, they both are — they are both getting really attached to each other. You should thread lightly."

Lucas licks his lips. "Maybe it's time."

"Time...?"

"Yeah," Lucas nods. "Time to make a real commitment. I mean, that's where we're headed. I love her, I want to be with her and when it's right, it's right."

Haley blinks rapidly, "Well, that...it wasn't where I was really going with what I was say—"

"Mr. Scott!" The contractor pokes his head, "We need ya for a second."

Lucas stands up, "Be right there!" He calls out, "Thanks, Hales." He presses a kiss to the side of her head before leaving the office. "You always know just what to say."

The copper-haired mother sighs, throwing her head back. "Yeah, I'm just a fountain of knowledge." She mutters to herself.

**-xx-**

Clay wears a ratty Dartmouth t-shirt paired with gray shredded Adidas soccer shorts; Rachel has one of Jake's pajama bottoms rolled up to hang low on her waist and an old tank-top. The pair lets themselves into the house and settle down on the couch to check out tonight's spread which has been laid out before them.

The two living room coffee tables are pushed together. Their combined surfaces are filled with Twizzlers, gummy worms, a six-pack of Yahoo and another one of Red Bull, chips, various dips, Oreos, peanut butter, almond butter, Nutella, whipped cream, a few liters of chocolate milk, popcorn, two boxes of pizza, a few liters of Coke and a bowl of old Halloween candy.

"Nice menu," Clay says, "I hope she's got my ice-cream in the freezer. You know it's not movie night without my Häagen-Dazs."

Brooke arrives downstairs and is only slightly surprised to find the pair already settled in. "What are you doing here?" She asks Clay, "This is supposed the be Girls' Night!"

Clay shrugs, "I'm always invited to girls' night. Girls love me."

"Yeah, but I thought we were gonna dance in our underwear to old-school Britney." Brooke pouts.

"Hey, I like old-school Britney, and I wore my fancy boxers —the ones with the little sailboats that you bought for me that one time."

Rachel arches her eyebrows, "You bought him underwear?"

Brooke ignores the redhead's comment and presses on. "Well, I rented _Breakfast at Tiffany's_,_ The Way We Were_, and_ Gone With the Wind._ Tonight's theme is classic chick-flicks."

Clay nods sharply, "Even better. You can be Scarlett O'Hara and I can be your Rhett Butler." He offers with a devilish grin.

Brooke sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. Truthfully, she'd wanted a break from all the men in her life. Despite her best efforts, Rachel's words had gotten to her and she wanted some quality girl time to do a little soul-searching, maybe even cry while watching some classic movies. She hadn't planned on Clay tagging along.

"You sure you won't get bored?"

"With you? _Never_!"

Clay pulls out a tiny blue-glazed airplane from his pocket and hands it to Brooke. "I made it for you," he tells her somewhat shyly, sounding about seven years old.

Brooke turns the little wooden model in her hands and sees that **B-24 Brooke** is painted on the side in black with a little red heart next to it. "Thank you," she leans forward to peck his cheek. "I love it."

"It's nothing. I was making them with Logan last week." Clay shrugs it off, "Now c'mon. We got movies to get through, about ten pounds of junk food to eat and then we strip down to dance."

Brooke chuckles, "There will be no striping down." She says firmly.

"_Tease_." Clay acuses with a puppy-dog face.

The threesome settles down on the couch, Clay sitting in the middle, and they start their marathon. They down their candy and watch the string of movies in silence, all three engrossed either deeply in the movie or in their own thoughts.

"_The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all,_" Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly says. "_The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid, and you don't know what you're afraid of._"

Brooke doesn't quite know which one she has, the blues or the mean reds. Maybe a little bit of both at this juncture. She lets out a heavy sigh.

"You okay?" Clay whispers, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Brooke nods, "Just a lot on my mind."

Clay buries his nose in her dark, sweet-smelling hair. "You worry too much." He whispers into her chocolate-colored locks.

"And, as always, you don't worry enough." Brooke counters.

Clay stares at her for a beat, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." He flashes her his best lopsided grin. "At least not about anyone but you, Dimples."

"How do you always do that?" Brooke asks, "How are you completely charming all the while being a conceited ass."

"Years of practice." Clay says, then he juts his chin out towards the TV. "C'mon, lets watch the movie. It's good.'


	16. Have You Really the Courage?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**Have You Really the Courage?**

"You live your life at the time you live it — you don't have much of an overview when what's happening to you is still happening."

―John Irving

**-xx-**

"How have you managed to accumulate so much crap?"

It's fifteen past twelve and Brooke, Rachel and Clay are still clearing out stuff from the third bedroom.

Rachel shrugs, "I may have a slight online shopping addiction." She mutters.

"That's the understatement of the year right there," Clay says as the redhead piles up two more boxes in his arms.

Brooke laughs, "Come on, last batch," she says.

"And the we start putting together the new furniture." Rachel sing-songs.

"I'm sorry, I don't trust furniture that has no nails or screws or any of the other doodads that are meant to hold the furniture together." Clay pipes in. "Plus I can never understand the little drawings that are supposed to be the instructions."

"Neither can I," adds Brooke. "I swear, Ikea is where the devil makes and sells furniture."

"Okay, Debbie Downer and Willy Whiner," Rachel stands, hands on her hip and a determined look in her dark eyes, "Pull it together and quit bitching 'cause I wanna get this done sometime before nightfall."

Brooke and Clay shut up and do as they're told; they both know better than to invoke the redhead's wrath. The girls gang up on Clay and end up blaring their old Britney CDs while they work.

"It's bad enough that I have to listen to this, but _why_ would you buy bunk-beds?" Clay whines, "And not just any bunk-beds, but one with a trundle-bed below it and stairs/drawers. Not to mention perhaps the most important question of all: how did _I_ get roped into building this and Jake gets off with zero work?"

Rachel laughs, "Jake was planning to put it together tonight, but I want to surprise him."

"All right, the dresser is done!" Announces Brooke.

Clay and Rachel exchange quizzical looks and stare at the brunette as if they can't quite recognize her.

"Are you sure it won't fall apart when Jenny puts stuff on it?" Rachel asks.

Brooke reaches for a throw-pillow and hurls it at her friend's head. "Yeah!" She exclaims. "Don't looks so shocked, I can be handy."

"You never cease to surprise me, darlin'," Clay offers with a grin.

Rachel laughs, "I'm gonna go get the sheets and pillows from my car. Try to have at least one of the beds together by the time I get back, will you, Clay," she says, grabbing her keys.

Clay throws his head back and let out a loud groan of frustration.

"Easy, Bob Vila," Brooke says, amused, "I'll help ya out. But I gotta turn up the music," she shrugs. "It's part of my process. Hand over the instructions."

The brunette turns up the stereo, the soft opening chords of "Don't Let Me Be The Last To Know" blaring through the speakers. She hums the melody as her hazel eyes scan the sketches on the instructions, occasionally stealing a glance at the few pieces Clay had managed to put together.

"Okay, I think I got it," she says. "These two pieces right here the last ones to go on. Um, how about you work on the frame while I get the drawer/stairs ready. Hand me the level and a Phillips-head please."

Clay grins and hands over the tools, impressed. "You sure know your way around the toolbox, babe."

"Always the tone of surprise," Brooke flashes him a dimpled smile before she goes back to the beds.

Within seconds the brunette is lost in the task at hand, singing to herself as she works. "_I feel it in the way you touch. But 'til you say the words it's not enough. C'mon and tell me you're in love. Please..._"

Clay watches her, her chocolate-colored locks tied up with a simple scrunchy. She bites her bottom lip as she continues to mount the pieces together with a the greatest look of determination on her face. "_Don't let me be the last to know..._" She sounds perfect even as she sings chick-music off-key, which she does a lot.

Clay throws his head back and suppresses a groan before deciding to join in. "_I need to hear you say you need me all the way. Oh, if you love me so, don't let me be the...last to know_."

Brooke's eyes widen in surprise and another dimpled smile breaks across her face. "Oh my god!" She exclaims, "Looks like I'm not the only who's full of surprises. Which other songs do you know?"

"Um, I also know "Sometimes", "Lucky", "Circus", "Stronger", bits and pieces of "Oops...I Did It Again!" — basically all your favorites."

Brooke gasps in surprise, "Are you seriously a closet Britney fan?"

Clay laughs, shaking his head "Nah, it's just... Well, you know how sometimes I sit and read to wait when you're sketching? Well, you usually sing Britney while you work. Also the Spice Girls, occasionally some Alanis Morissette. And you hum "No Diggity" whenever you get stuck in a design. For some reason that always gets you back on track." He recounts with a smile, "You do it a lot and it's kind of hard to miss, so eventually I learned a few of the songs. It's no big deal."

"It_ is_," Brooke coos with a smile, "I appreciate you putting up with my cheesy 90's music."

Clay shrugs, "We all have our guilty pleasures." He says, "I, for one, like cheesy 80's rock."

"Hmm," Brooke reaches for the speakers and plugs in her iPhone, scrolling through her song-list. "All right," she says before hitting play, "Now we can both enjoy a guilty pleasure together."

"Aah, REO Speedwagon!" Clay exclaims, grinning like a little kid. "You know me so well, Dimples."

Brooke winks, "I try."

Rachel comes upstairs after her final trip to the car and heads towards the bedroom, a pack of sheets and a couple of pillows in her arms. She stops when she spots her best friends singing together, Clay tickling Brooke's sides until they're both rolling around the floor, still attempting to sing in between their fit of laughter.

Clay sings at the top of his lungs, taking a solo before Brooke joins in for the chorus. "_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I mi-i-i-i-i-ight!_"

"_And I can't fight this feeling anymore. I've forgotten what I started fighting for. It's time to bring this ship into the shore, and throw away the oars forever._" Their voices meld together and Rachel thinks they sound like someone's banging a bag of cats against the wall.

Still, the redhead smiles because this is the happiest they've both looked in a while. She backs away slowly and settles down in the living-room to put on the pillowcases, leaving the two of them to enjoy their moment. A part of her thinks everything would be so much simpler if things could be just like this all the time.

**-xx-**

Rachel wakes up startled as a pillow slams against her face. "What the hell!" She shrieks, jumping to her feet.

"This is what you've been doing while we work our asses off?" Clay scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. "Seriously!"

Rachel rolls her eyes, "I saw you two singing along like an episode of Glee and I decided not to butt in." She says, "I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Nothing was going on." Clay says, "I'm not a douche-mover. She's with Lucas."

"Yes," Rachel nods, "And you're still in love with her. Despite your best efforts to act cool and move on, you are still in love with her."

Clay says, "So what? Look, she is still my best friend and I want her in my life. Even if it's purely platonic. And now I gotta go. Office called, problem with a new prospect. Uh, bed's finally done and Brooke's finishing up the desk. You can call me if you need help with anything else." He presses a kiss to the redhead's forehead, "Don't start any trouble, Red."

Rachel walks into the bedroom with the sheets and the pillows. "Wow. You guys are fast. Room looks great."

"Yeah," Brooke stands up, looking around the finished bedroom. "We work really well together."

Rachel clears her throat, "You sure do." She says, handing over a set of sheets, "Wanna do the top bunk?" She offers. "I'll take the bottom and the trundle bed."

"Sure. Ooh, Toy Story sheets. _Nice_!"

Rachel nods, "Yeah, Jake said she loves the movies so I figured these would be a nice surprise."

"Look at you working your way to the Mom of the Year Award." Brooke grins, "Done. Room looks pretty cool. Now all Jenn's gotta do is fill it up with toys. God, it's been forever since I've seen that girl. She must be as big as Jamie by now."

"Pretty cute, too. I've seen pictures on Jake's phone." Rachel says, finishing up setting up the trundle bed. "Y'know, Jake wanted a simpler bed, but I thought it'd be cool if she had more space. I always wanted to be the kind of girl who had sleepovers when I was growing up. Now Jenny can do that. If she wants to, I mean."

Brooke smiles, "That's really sweet, Rach."

The redhead sighs, "Look, I know I've been kind of a bitch lately. I said some stuff and...well, I guess we're both growing into different stages of our lives and it's taking some getting used to."

"I know you don't like Lucas, Rachel."

"No, I don't." Rachel sighs, "You're my best friend, Brooke. Not in the way you used to be with Peyton where you grew up together and you have all this history. I don't have that with anyone. My parents moved me around so much that I could never really connect with anyone. What I'm trying to say is, you're my best friend and if you're serious about making this work with Douche-ass, I'll try to shut up about it."

Brooke smiles, "Thanks, Rae," She says, "You also might want to stop calling him Douche-ass." He phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out. Lucas flashes on the screen. She taps the red ignore button and slides back into her jeans. "Just a suggestion."

"I'll do the best I can, but I make no promises." Rachel says with a shrug. They burst out laughing and Brooke pulls her into a hug.

"You're my best friend, too, you know?"

"Well, yeah, bitch," Rachel chuckles, "Who else is gonna be better than me?"

**-xx-**

"I'd forgotten how boring it can get around the house when Jamie's back at school. I had Jax for a little bit, but he had playgroup this morning so that didn't last long." Haley says, sticking her spoon in her best friend's ice-cream bowl. "Thanks for dragging me out."

Lucas grins, "That's what best friends are for." He says, "Besides, I've been meaning to talk to you. Look what I got." He pulls out a little black box from his jeans' pocket and opens it on the table.

"Oh." Haley blinks, staring at the diamond ring in front of her. "Wow. I am short on words to explain all the ways in which that doesn't seem like a good idea."

Lucas rolls his eyes, "I thought you'd be excited," he says. "You told me that I needed to make a commitment."

Haley scrunches her eyebrows, trying to recall her exact words. "Well, I don't think that's exactly what I meant when I..."

"This is a good thing, Hales. Really. I don't want to start again from the beginning. Brooke is not some woman I just met a few months ago. We have a history together, which means that we don't have to start from scratch. And I don't want to do that anyways. I don't want to waste any more time. I want to start our life together, officially."

Haley half-smiles, "You sure about this, Luke?" She asks, reaching for his hand.

"Yeah, I am. This is...it's the right move, Hales. I think it's gonna be amazing."

**-xx-**

The piercing click-clack of expensive Manolo heels against the shiny, tiled floor of the basketball court announce the arrival of the brunette fashionista at the gym. Brooke Davis plops herself down onto the bleachers and watches as Nathan Scott jumps to dunk the ball in, hanging from the metal hoop for a few seconds before dropping down.

"I need you to be a girl for me." She announces.

Nathan scrunches up his nose. "Oh, I so don't wanna know what that means." He shakes his head, "Not even a little bit."

"_C'mon_!" Brooke whines, jumping off from the bleachers and into the court. "Look, I can't talk to Rachel because she's gonna be all I-told-you-so and nobody wants to listen to that. And I can't talk to Haley because she's Lucas' best friend, so I don't wanna put her in an awkward spot."

"Uh, hello!" Nathan spreads his arms, "Lucas' brother right here. Awkward for me, too."

"Yeah, but you've been my friend longer than you've been Lucas' brother, so I got dibs." Brooke says dismissively.

Nathan frowns, confused.

"You know what I mean, even back when you were Douche-Nate and Lucas was Illegiti-Luke, you and I were friends." Brooke explains, "We've _always_ been friends. Which means I got Nate-dibs."

Nathan cracks a smile at the brunette's logic. "Fine." He caves, moving to sit on the empty bleachers. "Lay it on me, Davis."

"I feel confused. I thought I was ready to settle down with Luke, but now..."

Nathan says, "Now you're not sure."

"No, I'm not."

"Y'know, I was happy when Lucas told me you two were making another go of it." Nathan comments, "'Cause he'd told me that it wasn't going well with Peyton, so I actually figured it was good when they decided to split. I mean, you shouldn't stick around in a relationship that makes you unhappy. And then all these feelings he had for you were kind of reawakened, and he was back to his old self."

"So you're saying I should stick with Lucas?"

Nathan sighs, "I'm saying there's a part of your heart that you can only give to your first love. After that, even if you meet the love of your life, that little piece still belongs to that first person who you fell in love with. Now, that doesn't really diminish what happens when you fall in love with someone else," he says, "but I guess I can understand how it might make it confusing. Especially when they come crashing into your life again."

"So you're saying I _shouldn't_ stick with Lucas?" Brooke half-jokes.

Nathan rolls his eyes, "I'm saying only you can answer that. I know you love Lucas, but you need to figure out if you're still in love with him. If you are, then you should press forward. But if you're not, then you need to face up to that and let go. Either way, it isn't gonna be easy. Relationships never are. But when you're in love, the effort is always worth it."

Brooke crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. "This isn't fair." She whines, "I remember when your life was a mess and we all figured you were never gonna get it together and now you're the one who's all wise and mature."

Nathan throws his head back as he chuckles, "Ah, you're welcome, Davis."

**-xx-**

"Broody," Brooke calls out as she lets herself into the Scott house through the side door. She'd been avoiding the brooder most of the day, but after her talk with Nathan she figured it was time to stop running away. "You here?"

Lucas smiles at the sight of her. "Hey," he greets, pulling her into his arms and pecking her lips. "I'm glad you're here. I called you a few times, I was gonna stop over by your house."

"Guess I beat ya to it." Brooke shrugs, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

"Excellent timing as always." Lucas says.

"I wanted to talk" — "I wanted to talk" Their sentences collide and the brooder grins at the coincidence.

Lucas says, "Let me go first."

Brooke nods that he can go ahead and then she thinks her heart stops beating as she watches the brooder drop down to one knee right in front of her.

"I love you, Brooke. I know this feels soon, but at the same it doesn't." Lucas starts off his well-polished speech, the words flowing from his lips as eloquently as they always do; measured, sincere, resolute. He's poised and affectionate, and he brings up how long they've been friends and how his life without her in it now appears to be unimaginable. He is still the guy for her and she is the only one for him and he wants to be together forever.

Brooke licks her lips, "Luke..." Her mouth feels about as dry as a desert and she suddenly feels as if she has no words.

"Marry me, Brooke Davis." Lucas smiles, "Marry me."

"Lucas."


	17. Show Me Love

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**Show Me Love**

"No disguise can long conceal love where it is, nor feign it where it is not."

—Francois De La Rochefoucauld

**-xx-**

"Marry me."

This, Brooke thinks, must be what a moment of clarity feels like.

Standing there in the kitchen, watching Lucas down on one knee with that hopeful look on his face, asking her to marry him. She can see it easily, the way their future together would unfold. They'd have a small wedding and Sawyer would be the flower girl, and eventually they'd have more kids. Two boys and a girl. Summers in a beach house, winters in the south of France.

They'd planned all this out once before.

Lucas Scott loves her. Brooke is sure of that. In fact, she knows that can say yes right now and that they will settle down into a perfectly content existence. Their own little version of domestic happily ever after.

Brooke's hands reach down and brush against Lucas' as she closes the little box. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes as she whispers, "_I can't._"

Lucas stands up, their hands still tangled together around the box that now feels much too heavy for both of them. "What?"

"Luke..." Brooke stands in awe at how such a monumental realization can just unfold in an instant and change every single thing you thought about your life in the blink of an eye.

_I love Clay_, Brooke thinks. It's crazy, she realizes, but there it is anyway.

Lucas frowns, confusion now marring his features. "Brooke, I..."

Honestly, she isn't quite sure what exactly it is she had been planning to do tonight. Talk to Lucas, certainly. Discuss the possibility of taking things slowly, possibly. But now here he is with a ring and a proposal and the offer of a whole entire future together, and she just can't do it. She cannot bring herself to say yes.

She loves Clay. And even if he doesn't love her back in the same way anymore, she knows her feelings for him negate any possibility of this future with Lucas. To pretend otherwise would be unfair to herself, and to Lucas as well.

"You've always been this possibility, this _wonderful_ possibility for me," Brooke's surprised by how thin her voice sounds, but she presses on. "But it's just not right. And I'm so sorry. I am _so_ sorry. I feel like I've lead you on, but I just...I didn't know - I hadn't _allowed_ myself to know - that I just can't do this with you. The timing is finally right and you're right, but _we_ are not right. And we've been good, we've been really good, and you've become this amazing man, Lucas, but it doesn't, I mean I just...I don't feel it. I'm so sorry, Luke."

Lucas blinks, his brow furrowed. "Is this because of...are you in love with Clay?" Her silence is answer enough. He throws his head back, "Yeah, I guess I should've know, huh."

"I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you." Tears now flow freely down her cheeks and she struggles to string all her words together coherently. "You have no idea how badly I wish—"

"I do." Lucas nods, flashing her the semblance of a sad smile. "I do know."

Brooke had never really understood what people meant when they said they'd rather be alone if they couldn't be with the right person. Now she gets it, loud and clear. She wants Clay or no one. A part of her wonders if she's come to this realization a little too late. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. I know." Lucas licks his lips, "You can go."

"Luke—"

"No, I mean it. And I get it. Don't worry, I'm not gonna come around again. I understand that this is over." Lucas says evenly, like something's taken all the emotion from his voice. "But I need you to leave now, Brooke. Just _go_." He doesn't sound harsh or cruel; he's speaking remarkably matter-of-fact.

Brooke nods; she takes the copy of his house key from her pocket and sets it down on the table. "Bye, Lucas."

Once outside, she wipes away the tears that streak down her cheeks and breathes in and out, attempting to collect herself. She sits behind the wheel of her car and stays parked, going over everything that just happened in her mind.

She thinks about going over to Rachel's, but the redhead's gonna be having her first night with Jake and Jenny so she thinks better of it. There's the Naley house, but she figures Lucas is going to need Haley and she doesn't want to step on that. Especially not tonight.

Then there's Clay.

A huge part of her longs to run into his familiar arms and settle in there, tell him she's been a blind idiot for not realizing how much she loves him and kiss him and touch him and then engage in a whole other slew of activities they like to do when they're in bed together, but she thinks better of it.

Instead, Brooke drives home alone.

**-xx-**

Rachel stops her car illegally in the pick-up zone of the airport and glances around the crowd, attempting to spot Jake.

Strapped in his car-seat in the back, Jax claps excitedly. "Jay! Jay!" He calls out. The little boy has gotten very used to having Jake in his life.

Jake spots the redhead easily. She's in the car that everyone's honking at. "C'mon, Jen," he takes his daughter's hand and leads her towards the car.

"Hey, handsome!" Rachel's got half her body out the window as she pulls him close and plants her lips against his. "I missed you."

Jake grins, "Back at you, gorgeous," he pulls back and picks his daughter up. "Jenn, this is my girlfriend Rachel," he says, "Rachel, this is Jenny."

"It's nice to meet you," Rachel flashes the little girl her very best smile as they shake hands like grown-ups.

Jenny smiles back at her. "Do you love my Daddy?" she asks seriously.

Jake groans, "Sweetie, we've talked about inappropriate questions at inappropriate times," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"No, leave the girl be," Rachel pipes in, "She's always been the woman of the house and she's just trying to look out for you, right? I don't mind answering. Yes, Jenny, I am very much in love with your daddy. He's a really amazing guy."

"I really love her, too," Jake chimes in, "If you're interested to know, kiddo." He tickles her sides, opens the backdoor, "Now buckle in." He busies himself with loading their bags in the trunk.

Rachel keeps her eyes on the rearview mirror, making sure the little girl can handle the booster seat by herself. "That's my son Jackson." She says, "Don't worry, he's got his own room."

They're on the road and before either of them realize it, Jenny and Jackson are engaged in a game of Patty-Cake.

Jake smiles at the sight and reaches for one of the redhead's hands then brings it up this lips. "Yeah, this is definitely gonna work." He whispers, pressing a kiss to it.

"I never doubted it would." Rachel replies with a wink.

**-xx-**

"Here it is!" Clay exclaims, his arms raised triumphantly as he stands in front of a beat up boat.

Nathan scrunches up his nose and looks at the pieces of wood. "Yeah, this looks like a beat up dingy, dude." He concludes. "You dragged me early out of bed to show me a beat up dingy? _Really_?"

"It won't look like that by the time I'm through with it." Clay says decisively.

Nathan snorts, "You think you're gonna fix this thing?" He says, "You know this is a fool's errand, right? I mean, you're probably gonna spend more money trying to salvage it than it would've taken to just buy a new one."

"Maybe." Clay says, jumping up onto the ship. "But I like working on things. Just trust me. It'll be awesome and it'll be something that I actually built with my own two hands." He pulls out a pair of work-gloves and hands them over. "And my best friend's hands." He adds with an enticing grin. "C'mon, help your buddy out?"

"_This_ is why you texted me to come over here?" Nathan caves in with a groan. "Where'd you get this brilliant idea, man?" He asks as he begins to sand.

"I was watching this killer documentary of America's Cup and, after a little pow-wow with my main man Jax, we both agreed that it was a pretty sweet idea." Clay explains, "Don't look at me like that. I'm from Maine. I'm genetically engineered and socially programmed to like sailing. My old man used to watch the races with me when I was little."

"You never mention your dad." Nathan comments.

Clay shrugs, "Not much to say. He died when I was a kid. Which left me to grow up in a house full of women."

"Right." Nathan nods, "The four sisters."

"Yes," Clay nods, "Don't worry, though. I was _totally_ Mom's favorite."

Nathan rolls his eyes at his best friend's cockiness. "So why are you doing this? Really."

"Just trying to keep myself busy." Clay says, "Normally, I'd be screwing anything in a skirt, but that's not really healthy. I needed a distraction. Apparently this is what mature people do to move on."

Nathan raises a skeptical eyebrow, "Which self-help book did you dig that out of?"

"Rachel, mostly," Clay shrugs. "Plus I actually_ like_ projects. I rebuilt my Harley and it's pretty clutch, man."

Nathan sighs, "Yeah, Hales won't let me ride any more motorcycles. Accident in high school."

"Wipe out?"

"Pretty much," Nathan admits, "Doesn't mean I don't admire a classic like your bike. It _is_ pretty awesome."

Clay grins proudly, "Well, as long as wifey doesn't have a no-boat policy, both you and Jamie are more than welcome to come aboard this baby for some guy-time."

"Yeah, I probably won't swing that idea by her until this thing's a little more seaworthy, but thanks for the offer."

"Don't you worry, dude," Clay assures him, "This baby's gonna be mint by the time I'm through with it."

Nathan controls the impulse to roll his eyes. All in all, this is a good sign. At the very least it's a constructive way to move on.

**-xx-**

Brooke sits on the kitchen island of the now Gatina/Jagielski household and watches as Rachel whips up some pancakes in between downing her morning coffee.

"So, I broke up with Lucas."

Suddenly, Rachel spits out a mouthful of coffee all over the counter, the brown substance staining most surfaces of the previously clean kitchen tiles.

Brooke scrunches up her nose, "There's coffee dripping from your nostrils," she says, tossing a napkin at the redhead. "Jeez, you snorted it everywhere."

"You broke up with Lucas," Rachel repeats, "And we have been rambling on about waffles vs. pancakes for the last half-hour — way to bury the lead!"

Brooke shrugs, "I wasn't sure how to bring it up."

"And to spring it on me before I've finished my morning coffee," Rachel shakes her head. "I need details: When. Where. How. _Why._"

"Um, it was yesterday. At his house. Luke, he, uh, well, he proposed and I just...couldn't say yes." Brooke takes a deep breath, "I couldn't say yes because I realized that I'm in love with Clay. And that trying to make it work with Lucas was...I don't know, me being scared that Clay and I would never grow up and have something real. But we _did_ have something real. I was just too stupid to see it. So I had to say no. It wouldn't have been fair to Luke to say yes. It wouldn't have been fair to myself either."

"So you really broke up with Lucas?" Rachel asks.

"Yes."

"Because you're in love with Clay."

"Yes." Brooke answers again, "Did you snort the coffee up to your brain or something? How are you not following this?"

Rachel gasps, "And you haven't told him?!"

"Told who what?"

"Clay!" Rachel replies as if it were obvious, "You haven't told Clay you're in love with him?"

Brooke shakes her head, "No, I haven't."

"JAKE!" Rachel's shriek reverberates in the apartment startling even Brooke.

Jake runs out of the bedroom in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. His eyes are half open and his hair is sticking up in every direction. "Wha-what is it? What's going on? Are you all right?"

"Brooke dumped Lucas!" Rachel says gleefully as she claps her hands. "She's in love with Clay!"

"Okay, I'm gonna go back to bed now." Jake mutters, waving hello to the brunette.

"Gloating doesn't become you, Rachel," Brooke says, "_That_'s why I didn't want to tell you."

Rachel says, "Whatever. It's not me you have to tell anyway. Go find Clay. Tell _him_ you're in love with him."

"I don't want him to feel like my consolation prize."

Rachel sighs, "I am going to _not_ follow my instincts and avoid the tough love I so desperately want to give you right now. Instead I'll say this: you are not settling. You've just told me you're not settling. You don't want Clay because Lucas doesn't want you. You want Clay because you love him and you make each other happy. So much so that you turned down a life with another guy. That is the exact opposite of being a consolation prize. In fact, that is the very definition of being a choice."

Brooke kinks her eyebrows, surprised by the redhead's reaction. "Thanks, Rae. That's actually really nice."

"Yeah. So stop being a moron and go get your happy ending," Rachel smirks.

Brooke chuckles, "_There_'s the redhead I know and love."

"You know I hate to disappoint."

The pair chuckles, "So, what? I just go over to his house, say 'hi, by the way, I love you'?"

Rachel snorts at the suggestion, "Whatever works for you, kid."

**-xx-**

Brooke sits in her car outside of Clay's house as she works up the nerve to knock on his door. She briefly wonders when she became such a wuss about this kind of thing. She can vaguely recall a time when she was fearless when it came to love and relationships. Or at least she _felt_ fearless. Who knows if she ever really was.

A small chuckle escapes her lips as she hears Rachel's voice inside her head: '_Just suck it up and do it, bitch._'

It's good advice.

Clay doesn't take long to answer the door. "Dimples!" He grins at the sight of the brunette at his doorstep.

"Hey," Brooke greets, "can I come in?"

"Always." Clay steps aside to let her in. They stand in the living room in silence for a few minutes until Clay finally caves. "What's up?" He asks.

"Lucas and I broke up." Brooke says.

Clay doesn't burst out in a triumphant grin as Brooke had expected, instead her furrows his brow in concern. "Are you okay? Do you want me to kick his ass?"

The brunette's famous dimples poke out at his response, "No, no ass kicking necessary."

"Well, what happened? I thought things were going good."

Brooke takes a breath, "Actually, I broke up with him."

Clay furrows his brow, "Why?"

"Because I wasn't in love with him." Brooke says, "Clay, I love you."

Clay swallows, "You've never said to me before." He says matter-of-factly.

"I haven't." Brooke acknowledges. "I'm saying it now. I love you. I love you because you're the guy who is always there for me. Even when I was with someone else, you were there, unconditionally. You never leave. You're the guy who memorizes my favorite songs just so he can sing along with me. The guy who can comfort me without uttering a single word. The guy who does anything to make me smile. I'm in love with _you_, Clay. In a really big way. In a _more_ than you're-my-best-friend way. In an I-want-to-wake-up-with-you-and-fall-asleep-with-you-everyday way. I want to be with you or with no one."

Clay bursts in a wide grin, kinking his eyebrows together adorably. "You sure about that, Dimples?" He asks, a million different thoughts racing through his brain as he processes the brunette's words.

Brooke smiles up at him, dimples full-blown, "Turns out I'm surer about that than I've ever been about anything else." She says, "How about you? Do you still love me?"

"Couldn't stop if I tried," Clay replies. His hands settle on her waist and his forehead rests against hers, "Is this really happening right now?" He whispers, his mouth hovering over hers.

"Only one way to find out," Brooke plants her lips against his. It's been months since they've been this close, but they meld together like no time has passed at all. His nimble fingers tangle up in her chocolate-colored locks as her fingernails scratch the back of neck playfully.

"Feels real to me." Brooke whispers when they pull apart.

Clay smiles against her lips, "I love you, too." He says, "In a really big, you're-the-only-one-for-me way. And I'm yours for as long as you want me. I love you, Brooke Davis."


	18. Ordinary Extraordinary Love

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**The Bonfire of the Vanities**

**-xx-**

**Ordinary Extraordinary Love**

"Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again."  
>"Hell," I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?"<br>"Yes. I want to ruin you."  
>"Good," I said. "That's what I want too."<p>

―Ernest Hemingway

**-xx-**

Brooke feels a warm hand on her hip, just above her La Perla boy-cut panties. She murmurs slightly, nestling into the warm body settling in next to her. She turns and kisses Clay, finding his face without even bothering to open her eyes and enjoying the feel of his stubbly cheek against her smooth one. Clay kisses her back hungrily. Her tiny, curvy body feels so good in his arms. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed holding her like this.

"Morning, gorgeous." Clay climbs out of bed, looking sleepy and satisfied.

"_Nooo_," Brooke whines, propping herself up on her elbows. "Come back to bed with me. We can stay here all day and ignore the rest of the world."

Clay literally jumps back into bed, landing next to her. "As you wish," he says with a goofy grin. He pulls her in close and covers her bare shoulders, neck, and collarbone with kisses. Then he tugs down the straps of her tank-top. No bra, just Brooke.

Brooke throws her head back. "I love you," she says loudly, as if she wants the whole town to hear her say it.

"I love you," Clay replies, even louder.

Brooke erupts into excited giggles and begins tearing his white cotton boxers off with her graceful, overeager fingers. Clay mimics her, sliding off her expensive underwear down her silky legs. They toss the undergarments across the room and they land on the floor with a thud.

Clay peppers her cheeks and lips and chin with sloppy, playful kisses. He can't stop smiling and laughing and looking at her. Last night had been amazing. _She_ had been amazing. And their bodies were amazing. The way they fit together and knew instinctively what to do.

Brooke runs her hands through his soft hair, pulling his face closer to hers. They wrestle with each other under the covers, their bodies sleek with sweat. Soon they're kissing, uanble to stop, and before they know it, Clay's inside her again and they're moving together in perfect sync.

**-xx-**

Rachel climbs back into bed next to Jake and pulls the comforter over their legs. "Crisis averted," she announces. "Jax was just a little fuzzy and Jenn had a bad dream, needed the nightlight turned on. Next time it's your turn."

"Deal." Jake says, closing back his eyes.

Rachel cuddles up to him and their hips are touching. She can smell the scent of fabric softener and shave gel. His hair is doing that cute thing it does in the morning, sticking up in every direction, and he looks adorable. "I figure we got a good two hours before they're up and at 'em for good." She says, rolling on top of him.

Jake flashes her a mischievous grin, "We can do a lot in two hours." He says, suddenly feeling very awake.

"I _know_ we can," Rachel says, arching her eyebrows suggestively.

"Have I told you how amazing you are lately?" Jake's fingers tuck back a loose strand of red hair.

"You have, but I do enjoy hearing you say it," Rachel smiles giddily.

It's been such a long time since she's felt this, felt butterflies at the thought of a guy, felt the adoration that comes from seeing someone look at you with a sparkle in their eyes. It's quite possibly the first time that a guy actually loves her like _this._ Without needing space and pushing her away to get it. Seeing all her flaws, yet still never seeing her as someone _damaged_. But above all it's the first time that a relationship feels _right_. Sure, Jake has his annoying quirks (she has her fair share of them as well), and they occasionally argue, but it never feels stifling.

Embarrassing giggles fall from her lips as Jake presses kisses down her stomach. "Babe, come on," he looks up at the redhead with one of the languid grins she knows he reserves just for her. "I'm doing some of my best work here and you're just laughing right through it."

Rachel reaches for him and pulls her face up to hers, planting her lips against his passionately. "I think I really love you, Jake Jaglieski." She murmurs hotly against his mouth.

"You think or you know?" Jake asks, pulling away to look into her enticing brown eyes. He asks the question teasingly, and is surprised by the seriousness with which the redhead considers for a second.

Rachel smiles, bites her lower lip looking nervous and happy and excited all at the same time. "_I know_." She assures him before pressing their lips together once more.

**-xx-**

Nathan opens one eye and spots Haley getting dressed. "Hey, don't leave yet," he calls out, "I got another round in me if you're up for it."

"I do," Haley leans a knee into the mattress and kisses her husband good-morning. "But I'm gonna drop by Luke's place before we head down to TRIC. He hasn't answered any of my calls and today is the meeting with the contractor again."

Nathan flashes her an enticing pout, "You sure I can't talk you back into bed, Hales?"

"Oh, I _know_ you can," Haley smiles widely, "But you won't because you know I need to work. And someone needs to drop Jamie off at school."

"You don't have to do it all, babe. I can take Jamie to school."

Haley shakes her head, "No, stay in bed, sleep in. One of us should."

"Best wife in the world," Nathan grins.

Haley winks, "Don't you forget it." She leans down to peck his lips once more before leaving. "Love you!"

"Love you more!" Nathan calls out.

**-xx-**

Clay stands in front of the griddle, wearing Calvin Klein boxers that hang low on his hips.

Meanwhile, Brooke scavenges the fridge for syrup and other toppings, wearing a button-down that's too big for her.

"Pancakes are nearly done." Clay announces.

Brooke props herself up on the counter next to him, "Those don't look too good." She assesses, staring at the odd shaped pancakes that Clay is stacking up on her plate.

"But they taste amazing." Clay pours syrup over them and reaches for the canned whipped cream to squirt a dollop on top. "Try 'em."

Brooke raises a skeptical eyebrow and takes a bite. "Mmm," She exclaims, "These are amazing!"

Clay grins, shakes the whipped cream can, "My turn." He sprays some whipped cream along the brunette's cleavage and leans down to lick it off her chest. Brooke throws her head back, enjoying the feeling of his mouth against her skin.

"Delicious." Clay flashes her a grin as he rips open the button-down, this time spraying the whipped cream down her breasts and all the way down to her navel, then slowly licking it off.

Brooke moans, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him up. "I'm all for getting kinky with the condiments, but I need _food_. Eat now, sex later." She says, pressing her mouth to his.

"Deal." Clay grins. "Wanna eat in bed?"

"You read my mind."

They're settled down amongst the pillows and covers, plates tossed aside as soon as they finished eating. Brooke cuddles up to his chest, "Thanks for playing hooky with me today."

"A chance to stay in bed with you all day," Clay's strong arms wrap around her, pulling her in closer. "I'd be crazy to pass that up. You sure Rachel doesn't mind working without you, though? It's never good to incur Little Red's wrath."

Brooke chuckles, "Rae was practically doing cartwheels when I told her I love you. Trust me, she doesn't mind me taking a day off. Besides, I'm the boss. That comes with some perks." She says, "What about you? Is the sporting world gonna survive without it's best agent there for a day?"

"Yeah. I mean, Nate will probably bitch me out about being a slacker, but what else is new," Clay jokes. "Hey, uh, I know this might sound kind of heavy for a girl I've just started to date, but Logan's birthday is coming up soon. Do you wanna go down to Chicago with me for it? I promise it'll be fun. Besides, the kid is completely infatuated with you."

Brooke smiles, dimples full-blown. "I'd love to come. A birthday party isn't too heavy at all."

Clay chuckles, "Well, my mom will be there." He adds, "But I know she'll love you. You're exactly the kind of girl she's always wanted me to bring home."

"What kind is that?"

"Smart. Self-made. Strong. Independent. Always opinionated. Outspoken." Clay lists off the characteristics easily, without really having to think about it. "The fact that you're drop-dead beautiful is also a plus."

"I don't know. I think you might be overselling me, babe."

Clay shakes his head, "No such thing. If anything, I'm downplaying it. I mean, you are...beyond amazing, darlin'."

"You're not so bad yourself, handsome." Brooke kisses his lips softly at first, her fingers running through his hair to pull him in closer, make the kiss deeper.

Within seconds they're ripping what little clothes they still have on and tossing them aside.

_Yeah_, Clay thinks. _Bantering and kissing and this—I can definitely do this forever._

**-xx-**

Haley lets herself into the Scott house through the side door. "Luke!" She calls out, looking around the empty kitchen. "Anyone home?"

Lucas appears in a pair of pajama pants and an old Ravens t-shirt. "Hales," he says, "How'd you get in?"

"I still keep my key from the old days," Haley dangles her key-ring. She studies him with a concerned look: the blonde peach-fuzz that covers his cheeks, his messy hair, his ratty old PJs — something's wrong. "What's up? I've been calling you."

Lucas reaches for the coffee pot. "Been busy." He pours himself a cup, straddles a chair backwards and stares up at his best friend. "Lets see, I got a ring, proposed to Brooke, she turned me down. It doesn't really sound like a lot, but rejection is actually very time-consuming."

"Oh, Luke, I'm so sorry," Haley pulls out the chair next to his and reaches for his hand. "Are you okay?" She asks, squeezing his hand.

Lucas half-smiles at the empathy in her eyes. Haley's always been his guardian angel. "I don't know, really. Maybe it hasn't fully sunk in yet."

"You look like you're handling it remarkably well." Haley says, more a question than a statement.

"Yeah, well, when you have a kid - and her mother abandons her, effectively leaving you alone to raise her - you kind of don't have the time to fall apart." Lucas says, "I'm sorry I avoided you, I...just didn't feel like talking to anyone over the age of three. Sawyer doesn't really ask about my rejected proposal so there are no awkward explanations to deliver."

Haley sighs, "I'm sorry, Luke." She says, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I'm here. For whatever you need, I'm here."

"I think I'm actually gonna," Lucas pauses, searching for the right words, "be _okay_. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm still kind of heartbroken, but it feels different. I didn't screw it up this time. There's nothing I could've done different. Brooke's heart always belonged to somebody else and we were both just...trying to make it work this time. She was right, what she told me. This time around, the timing is right, but I'm just not the one for her. Not anymore, at least. And I guess I have to accept that."

Haley pats his knee, "It also means that Brooke isn't the one for you, either. You're gonna find someone who is just as amazing as you are and who loves you completely. I just know it."

"I guess. I actually think I'm gonna try to be alone right now. A while back, Nate pointed out that I've hardly ever been single, and I think he had a point." Lucas says, "I feel like I lost myself. So maybe being on my own for a while will be good."

"Don't lose hope. If you get lost, you can always be found. I'll always find you." Haley smiles, "And you might be single for a while - that may actually be good for you - but you're never alone. Not as long as I'm around. You hear me?"

Lucas smiles back at her, this time for real. "What would I ever do without you, Haley James?"

"Here's hoping you never have to find out." Haley chuckles, pulling him into a tight hug. "You'll make it through this. I promise." She whispers.

Lucas buries his face into her shoulder, "I love ya, Hales."

"Back at ya, Scott."

**-xx-**

"Morning!" Brooke beams as she walks into the C-o-B store. "I brought you coffee from the good cart today."

Rachel smirks knowingly, "Someone's all shiny and happy!" She sips her coffee. "You missed the entire day yesterday and I had to cover your ass. I want details. Spill!"

"Okay I "spill" anything," Brooke replies with an eye-roll. "All I'll say is that Clay and I are officially in a relationship."

Rachel smiles from ear to ear, clapping excitedly once more. "I _KNEW_ IT!" She exclaims, "Come on! I have been the number one cheerleader of Team Brooke/Clay since the beginning. I _deserve_ some details. At least something more than "_oh, we're officially in a relationship_". I've earned it."

"You were right," Brooke shrugs. "I just went over there and I told him I'm in love with him and that I want to be with him and...well, some other stuff. He told me that he still loves me. That he never stopped. And then we..."

Rachel grins wickedly. "You played hooky yesterday to have hot, dirty sex with Clay."

Brooke opens her mouth but Rachel halts her, "Don't even bother to deny it 'cause I've never respected you more than I do right now. Don't ruin the moment."

Brooke laughs, "There's something wrong with you."

"There's nothing wrong with me." Rachel says, "By the way, Jake scored a bunch of tickets to this music festival down in Durham in a few week. I'm thinking we can double, take Jake's truck 'cause it's bigger. Maybe even take Naley with us if they're up for it."

"Yeah, that sounds amazing." Brooke smiles, "What band?"

"A few, actually. Midnight Cinema, Imagine Dragons, Artic Monkey, fun." Rachel lists off. "Maybe a few more. It was a long list."

Brooke nods, "We're definitely in. Sounds awesome." She says, "Hey, speaking of, how're things going now that Jake and Jenn have officially moved in."

"Really, really good. Jenny and Jackson are getting along relatively well and Jenn started school today, she's a year ahead of Jamie. And Jake's been great. He'd been working with Chris endlessly, planning some party for when TRIC reopens. Everything's good."

Brooke notes the huge smile that Rachel just can't wipe from her face every time she talks about Jake and the kids. It's the first time the redhead's looked truly, completely happy in a relationship. The realization brings a sense of peace to Brooke. "I'm happy for you, Rae. I'm happy you're happy."

Rachel grins, "Back at you, kid." She says, "I think we've earned some happiness."

"We certainly have."

**-xx-**

Clay walks into the large backyard, his arm slung over Brooke's shoulders. A horde of little kids runs around wildly, playing a game of tag. The party seems to be a hybrid of airplanes and firefighters, the party hats ranging from carton cones with airplane drawings to plastic firefighters' helmets. There're two large tables in the middle of the yard: one is stacked with presents, the other holds a humongous chocolate cake with HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOGAN! spelled on top in red frosting.

But it's a group of four women huddled together on a corner talking in hushed tones that immediately captures Clay's attention.

Clay blinks. "Oh, crap."

Brooke looks up at him, "You okay, babe?"

Clay lets out a humorless chuckle, "They're here." He says. "They're _all_ here. My sisters are here. All four of them."

"_What_?" Brooke asks with widened eyes, "You didn't tell me they'd be here! I don't know if I'm ready to meet the sisters yet."

Sisters, she guesses, are much meaner and overprotective than the Mom.

"I didn't _know_ they'd be here." Clay says, "I mean, they love to spoil Logan, but I didn't think they'd jump a plane just for his birthday party."

"I've forgotten their names." Brooke says, panic edging into her voice, "In fact, I think I've forgotten everything you ever told me about them. Except that there's four of them, which now seems like a _really_ big number."

Clay kisses the side of her head. "Breathe." He advices, "Look, it's not that big a deal. Just relax. They'll love you. Okay. There's Nancy, Kathleen, Elizabeth and Amelia." He lists off, "Nancy is an OB/GYN, she's the oldest. Kate is a psychiatrist, which means every time we meet she spends her time overanalyzing everything little thing I do. Liz is a pediatrician; she's good with kids. Amy is a surgeon; well, _almost_ a surgeon — she's doing her residency at Hopkins right now. I'm not sure I'd want her cutting into me just yet." He shrugs, "But then again I still see her as the scrawny fifteen year old who crashed my first car."

"Right." Brooke nods, "Nancy, Kathleen, Elizabeth and Amelia. No big deal. I can do this."

Clay chuckles, "It's cute that you're nervous, Dimples." He says, "But it's cool. Look, I'll go in first, get the lay of the land, and then I'll introduce you. Here," he reaches for one of the party hats and places it on the brunette's head, "You look great. Now you fit right in." He pecks her lips, "Go put our presents at the gift table."

Brooke nods, "Fine." She caves, "Maybe I'll find your mom. See how that goes."

"Sounds like a plan." Clay grins, watching her as she leaves. He takes a breath to steady himself and approaches his sisters. "Family reunion and no one told me about it?"

"CLAYTON!" - "GOOBER!" - "CLAY-BEAR!" - "C.J.!"

The four women squeal out the nicknames for their brother as they pull him in for a group hug, squeezing him tightly and tussling his hair playfully, pressing kisses to his cheeks.

Clay grins. "Nance, Kate, Liz, Amy," he sighs, wiping lipstick of his cheeks. "What are you all doing here?" He watches as all four of them exchange glances, engaging in a form wordless conversation the way they've done for as long as he can remember.

Finally, Kathleen caves and speaks. "You ignored our calls, you bailed on 4th of July party, and rumor has it you bought a sailboat in an attempt to get over some girl that has got you all twisted up." She lists off, "You've been distant at best. We're concerned." She's using her shrink voice, which only serves to annoy him.

Amelia steps forward, "Except me. I actually came to party. Nothing's more hard-core than a five-year-old's birthday." She grins, hers eerily similar to Clay's. "Plus, I've missed you." She adds, pulling him into a hug.

"How's the little black sheep of the family?" Clay teases, hugging her back.

Amelia slaps his arm, "Parental disappointment ends with a medical degree." She says, "Looks like you're the lone black sheep now. I'm gonna go check out the cake. Kate, Liz," she says, turning to her sisters, "Join me?" The other two women follow her towards the food table, leaving Clay alone with his oldest sister.

Clay runs a hand over his face. "I really don't like you." He says with a wry chuckle.

"You _love_ me." Nancy says.

"_Four_ sisters," Clay says, raising as many fingers, "Four sisters and not one brother. Not a single male influence since I was nine. And you wonder why I don't call more."

Nancy rolls her eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm not the shrink. Want me to get Kathy back over here so she can analyze that for you?"

"Funny." Clay says, "But I'd prefer it if you all don't gang up on me, actually."

"Well, sue us. We're concerned. Long story short: Kathleen called me, I called Liz, Liz called Amy, and we decided it'd be good to come to our nephew's birthday party and surprise you. You should be grateful nobody called Mom!"

"Because you knew she'd be here!" Clay exclaims, "She never misses a grandkid's birthday."

Nancy shrugs, "It's a nice family event. We brought the kids with us. Logan was thrilled when he saw all his cousins here."

Clay narrows his eyes, "You know, you sound more and more like Mom every time I talk to you."

"Ah!" Nancy gasps, punching his shoulder. "Take it back! Take it back right now!"

Clay laughs, "I'm not five anymore, Nance. You don't get to bully me anymore." He says, "Look, I appreciate all the sisterly concern, but it's unnecessary. I'm doing fine. Great, in fact. I missed the party 'cause I was busy. I may not be a doctor, but I do work for a living. And the sailboat is just a project. I don't have to get over anyone. Actually, I'm in a relationship. My girlfriend is here with me. And Logan loves her, by the way, so everything's fine on that front, too."

Nancy smiles knowingly, "Still running in circles around all the women in your life, I see."

"_Be_._ Nice_." Clay warns seriously. "I don't want you four to run her off."

"You really like this one," Nancy states matter-of-factly. "I've never seen like this over a girl, not even Sara back in the day, and she really had you smitten once upon a time."

Clay licks his lips, "I really_ love_ this one." He amends, "And I can assure you it's the first time I've felt like this. I'm happy, Nancy. Really. This girl, she's something else entirely. I love her."

"_Fine_." Nancy sighs, "I will talk to Kathleen and Liz. We'll be nice. I don't even know why you're making such a big deal — we're _always_ nice."

Clay opts to ignore that last part. "What about Amy?"

Nancy snorts, "I have no control over Amelia. She's a wild thing. _You_'re always the one in charge of her."

"Right." Clay grins, "I'll handle Amy."

Nancy grins back at him, "Good. Now that that's settled, can your sister get some love?" She asks, opening her arms for a hug. Clay pulls her in, swinging her from side to side like when they were kids. "I've missed you, goober."

Clay shakes his head. "Don't call me that."

"All right, all right. Where's the girlfriend? We're dying to meet her."

**-xx-**

Brooke throws her head back, laughing that five-year-old's laugh of hers. "Wait, wait, tell me again," she says in between a fit of giggles, "So he _bleached_ his hair? Tell me you have pictures!"

"I always come prepared!" Liz whips out her phone, scrolls through the old pictures until she finds one of a fifteen-year-old Clay with frosted tips.

All five women burst into another fit of laughter at the sight. It appears to be seamlessly, really, the way Brooke falls in with all of Clay's sisters.

Even his mother finds her enchanting. Clay isn't really sure what it is his mom had asked Brooke when they talked alone, but whatever it was and whatever Brooke had replied had certainly left an impression on the older woman.

"Your turn," pipes in Kathleen.

Amelia nods, "You totally have to share some recent Clay-stories with us!"

They listen to Brooke's stories rapturously, laughing and inserting their own little throwbacks wherever they fit in.

Clay had actually been worried about his sisters not getting along with Brooke; it hadn't even crossed his mind to be concerned about what might happen if they actually got along.

"You've been hiding this one."

Clay jumps up, startled by his mother sneaking up behind him. "Hey, Ma," he pulls her into a hug. "I've missed you."

"You don't visit enough," Carolyn Evans says. "Though I understand why this one has such hold on your time and affections. I like her. She's good for you."

"You spent less than an hour with Brooke. You barely even know her."

"I know enough." Carolyn says, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I know _you_."

"That you do."

Carolyn chuckles, "Come on," she links her arm through his, "Lets go play with my grandson. I heard from Sara that a firetruck might actually stop by later."

**-xx-**

The party's died down, only family remaining, and Brooke sits in the kids' table of the kitchen, holding court over the group of Clay's 7 nieces and nephews. All of them seem to hang on her every word and follow her every instruction without question.

"Okay, Chyler, now crumble the graham crackers really hard," Brooke tells the little girl. "You, too, Theo."

The kids' faces scrunch up in concentration as they squeeze their respective Ziploc bags filled with graham cracker squares.

"Very nice!" She praises.

"What do I do?" Logan pipes up, his expression full of naked adoration.

Brooke hands him two jars, a bowl and a spoon. "Mix them up really good, Wolverine. Use as much as you want."

The brunette smiles as she watches all the kids hard at work. She had invented the peanut butter pie back when she was a little kid—peanut butter and Nutella mixed together with crushed graham crackers and topped with marshmallows and gummy bears.

Clay watches from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He smiles at the sight of her fitting in so well with everyone in his family, from the adults to the children, especially Logan.

Over on the grown-up table, his sisters and his mother talk and gossip. He pulls up a chair, straddles it backwards, "So, lay it on me, what's the verdict?"

"I love her!" Amelia's the first one to speak.

"We all do," seconds Kathleen.

"I think I might love her more than I love you." Adds Liz.

"Agreed." Says Nancy.

All five siblings turn to face their mother, awaiting her final opinion eagerly.

"I've already told you I like her. She's a fine young woman, Clay. I'm very impressed."

"Thank you, Mom." Clay grins, presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm glad you approve."

Carolyn Evans studies her only son's face for a few seconds. "I've a feeling that my disapproval wouldn't have deterred you in any way. All the same, I'm happy you want her to make a positive impression on me."

"I love her." Clay says, shrugging his shoulders. He's said it to Nancy, and now he's telling the rest of them.

Nancy, Kate, Liz and Amy all coo in sync: "_Aaaaw_!"

"She's the one." Carolyn adds matter-of-factly, and still they're not sure if it's a question or a statement.

Clay just grins languidly, "I know she is."

**-xx-**

Clay lets out a long groan as they walk to the car. "Well, we survived that."

Brooke shakes her head, "You have no idea how lucky you are."

"What do you mean?"

"Your mom, your sisters," Brooke says, "You have a family - a _real_ family. Family that actually cares and has embarrassing stories to tell about you. My parents probably don't have a single memory of me during my teenage years. They never call. They don't give a rat's ass about who I'm dating. But your family _does_ care. They have 4th of July parties and Thanksgiving dinners and Christmases together. Your mom always comes down for Logan's birthdays and your crazy sisters at least try to make it. I think that's amazing."

Clay wraps an arm around her, pulling her in. "Well, I think _you_'re amazing. And my Mom and my sisters do, too. I think I speak for all of them when I say that I'd love to have you be a part of the family."

Brooke chuckles, looks up at him quizzically. "Is that a proposal, Clay Evans?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Brooke bites her lower lip, stares into those cobalt-blue eyes of his. "Eventually." She answers, "I'd like it to be a proposal, eventually."

Clay nods, "Good." He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips against hers. "Until then."

Brooke smiles back at him, dimples full-blown. "Until then," she nods.


End file.
